


Can't Stop the Reckoning

by CreatorWorks



Category: Changeling: the Dreaming, Demon: The Fallen, Hunter: The Reckoning, Mage: The Ascension, Vampire: The Masquerade, Werewolf: The Apocalypse, World of Darkness (Games), Wraith: The Oblivion
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Bisexual Character, Demons, Fae & Fairies, Gay Character, Gen, Ghosts, Mages, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-28 10:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreatorWorks/pseuds/CreatorWorks
Summary: A Mage, a Vampire, a Demon, a Changeling, a Ghost, and a Werewolf have to team up to fight something even worse than them.





	1. Prologue

“No, that can’t be right.”

I scoop up the cards, shuffle, and cast the fortune again. Same result. Frustrated, I turn the cards into dice and try again that way. Same result again. I sigh. Fate, it would seem, is fate, regardless of how you test it.

I run a hand through my messy golden hair in frustration and think. What can I do about this? I can’t just let this happen, there must be some way around it. I turn the dice back into cards and cast the fortune again. Same result. I study it closer this time, looking for any way around it, any loophole…

“AHA!” I cry, leaping off my velvet cushion. There _is_ a way! It looks… incredibly difficult, insanely unlikely, but possible, if I can pull it off. I clap my hands and the cards and cushion are replaced by a chair and a desk. I smile at this, wondering what my fans would think if they saw this “trick”. I’ve gotten away with some pretty vulgar magic out there by calling it sleight of hand. I just recently won one of those TV talent competitions that way. Does it count as cheating if you use real magic to win a talent show pretending to do magic tricks? I dunno. Man’s gotta eat, and a million dollars buys a lot of pop tarts.

I sit at the desk, conjuring a pencil and paper. Technomancers would use, like, an iPad or something, but I’ve always preferred the tactility of physical media. I close my eyes, open my mind to the aether, and start to draw.

* * *

The thick, coppery fluid pours down my throat, revitalizing me. I am at once ecstatic and disgusted by it. It’s not like _I_ killed her, I rationalize, as I do every time I drain a human. I can only live on rats and jackrabbits for so long before I need that fresh human ambrosia, but it still sickens me to do so, even after a century.

I glance around to make sure nobody saw that. I feel like I’m being watched, but I always feel like I’m being watched so I doubt it means anything. I drop the poor mugged college girl to the ground after licking the bite wound away. I mean, it’s not like she was _using_ that blood anymore, I once again try to rationalize, but I still hate myself for it. I tell ya, life for the undead sucks.

I quickly duck out of the alleyway and start walking down the street as though nothing had happened. It would be great if the cops found her body soon, maybe even soon enough to catch her killer, but I don’t hold my breath. Not that I need to breathe. I glance up at the full moon and wince. The reflected sunlight isn’t enough to actually hurt me but I still don’t like the reminder that Sol Invictus is out there just waiting for the opportunity to scorch me to cinders. Hell, the Tucson sun is strong enough that even the humans notice its power and hide from it. God I hate this town.

I get back to my shitty apartment that I can barely afford, with tinfoil over the windows to block out the daytime sun, and flop into bed, staring at the ceiling. I’m not even tired, just… bored. My name is Gavin Navarro, I’m 115 years old, and I can tell you immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Those first few decades were intense, hunting down my sire, the chase, the skirmishes, the final battle, and at last avenging my own murder, but then, unlife just goes on. I suppose I could do what other vampires do, seduce and manipulate humans and other vampires and scrape together as much power and influence as I can get, but I just don’t have the ambition for that bullshit. I do wish _something_ interesting would happen though.

* * *

Pain.

Of all the new sensations blasting my sudden consciousness, pain is the loudest, and the most exquisite. I’ve felt pain before, of course, but never with a body. This is _physical_ pain, and it’s exhilarating. I open my eyes, and the full moon burns itself into my retinas. I’ve never seen with eyes before. I laugh, and revel in the sharp pain that shoots through my lungs.

Two thoughts pierce my mind.

I am Lucas Valdez, 21 years old, and I just died in a motorcycle crash.

I am Agathiel, Defiler of the Fifth House, and I just escaped from Hell.

Of the two thoughts, the latter is the truer one. Lucas Valdez is gone, dead, his soul gone to wherever human souls go when they die, the answer to which I think not even the Angels of Death really know, since humans as they were originally designed were never intended to die. But Lucas’s mind -- his memories, his hopes and hates, his dreams and desires -- that’s all still here in his brain, pressing in on me, mixing with me, fighting me for control.

First things first. This body isn’t going to get me anywhere broken as it is. I fix it. It’s easy. My hands that helped carve Creation out of nothingness at the Almighty’s command have no trouble knitting this human form back into working order, and as I do so the pain fades away.

I balk at the memory of the Angel I once was. Or maybe still am? So much has happened since Creation. The rebellion, the War, our defeat and imprisonment, our escape… Am I angel or demon? Am I both? Is there even a difference?

These are questions for a later moment. Lucas was on his way to his night job bartending, and while I don’t know what I plan to do with this life I suddenly find myself living, I figure I shouldn’t upset it before I decide. Miraculously, the accident that killed Lucas seems to have left his motorcycle in more or less working order, which is good because this is nothing like anything I ever knew of before being imprisoned in Hell so I would have no idea how to fix it. I lift it up, hop on using Lucas’s muscle memory, and let his mind guide me in the operation of the machine, trusting that he will know what to do when we, he, I, get to work.

It’s going to be an interesting night.

* * *

Dancing. Frolicking. Moonlight and music and fire and laughter and love. I am with my people and my people are with me, and we are happy.

“JOSHUA MARCUS PETERSON!! GET DOWN HERE NOW OR YOUR DINNER WILL GET COLD!”

I wake, and sigh. That’s not my life. This is my life. Stuck in this stupid wrong body, eating and doing chores and going to school and grinding out the gears of a boring mundane Autumn World existence. Nobody knows who I really am. Nobody even knows my real name. But when I sleep, in the Dreaming, I can be me.

I slump out of bed and stare at myself in the mirror. On one level, I see my body: 17 years old, male, brown shaggy hair, blue-green eyes behind half-rimmed glasses, 6 feet tall, thicker around the middle than I’d like. On another level, I see my true self, my fae mien: 7 feet tall, slender but curvy, bright blue skin and fur, deep black eyes, swept back horns growing out of my temples, jet black silky hair spilling over my breasts, goat legs ending in big black hooves. Jocelyn is my name, and I am a Satyr. And no human has ever seen the real me.

I remember my Chrysalis, when my true self burst forth in an explosion of Glamour. Other Kithain found me, took me to the deep places and showed me who I am. They taught me about being a Changeling, about the Dreaming and Arcadia, and about my place in faerie society, about the Seelie and Unseelie Courts and my position in the great fae hierarchy. I had a home, I had a people, I had a place to belong.

I sigh again, turning to gaze out the window at the full moon. That didn’t last long. Turns out I fit in among faeries about as well as I do among humans. Even to other Changelings I’m a weirdo. My Chrysalis was more than a year ago and here I am, still stuck in this banal teenage human life, feeding on whatever bits of Glamour I can scrounge, answering my mother’s screeching call for dinner each night as though it matters. As though anything in the Autumn World matters. At least in the Dreaming I can use Glamour to create Chimera to be my friends. I wonder what it would be like to have real friends, who know the real me, who accept me for who I am.

With one final glance at the mirror, I trudge down the stairs for dinner.

* * *

I ache with tormented love as I watch my son drain another body. He looks around. He senses my presence, as he so often does, but I do not reveal myself. Not yet, I say for the hundred thousandth time, not yet…

I wish he knew me, knew I was here, knew somebody loves him. But what if he rejects me? Look at what he’s been turned into, he may hate me for giving him life only to let him be turned into a monster. And look at what I’ve become: a mere shade, not able to hold him, to hug him, to run my hand through his hair and tell him everything will be alright… Ghosts don’t make good mothers, and vampires don’t make good sons.

But someday… Someday I will reveal myself. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. Someday Gavin will know he has a mother who loves him, even if she was only 16 when she had him and even if she died in childbirth, Tabitha Navarro will never leave her son. He will know all of this someday, but not today. Not yet…

* * *

We stop singing as our van pulls into the supermarket parking lot. My dad finds a parking spot and he and Mom and I all hop out.

“Hey, can I stay outside this time? I’d like to enjoy the full moon.”

My parents glance at each other briefly then smile. “Sure,” Dad says, “just stay near the van.”

I look up at the moon as they head into the supermarket, drinking in its light, pale and silvery like me. I giggle as I think of the domestics all around me, believing this light would force my kind to transform into monsters. I’m only a monster when I _want_ to be, thankyouverymuch.

I lean against the van and sigh. We call it our van, but really it’s one of those hippie buses. Four legs can take you farther than two but still not as far as wheels, and sometimes you gotta go into the city. Prey is scarce in the Tucson area for a tribe of werewolves, especially when you don’t hunt humans, so we supplement our hunting with shopping.

I hum a little, continuing our song from the drive up, still basking in the light of the moon. My name is Jenny, I’m 14 years old, I love the moon, I love my family, and I love my life. I love being Garou and I love being a child of Garou, even though it means I’m weaker than most. Werewolves aren’t meant to breed with each other, and because they did I came out wrong: sickly and too small and weak and albino. But I don’t care. I wouldn’t trade my family for all the strength in the world. We are the Children of Gaia, and we are stronger together.

I glance back toward the supermarket, wondering if I should head in after them, when something grabs my face from behind. I breathe in to scream, smell something sharp, and know no more.

* * *

I set aside the pencil and look down at what I’ve drawn. Six faces look back at me, each with a name and an age and a description. The first one I recognize from looking in the mirror. Calvin Kepter, Age 19, Mage. The rest, well…

“This is going to be interesting…” 

  


Calvin Kepter  
Age 19  
Mage

\---------------------

| 

Gavin Navarro  
Age 115 (Physically 15)  
Vampire

\---------------------

| 

Agathiel (Lucas Valdez)  
Age ??? (Physically 21)  
Demon

\---------------------  
  
---|---|---  
  
  


Jocelyn (Joshua Peterson)  
Age 17  
Changeling

\---------------------

| 

Tabitha Navarro  
Age 131 (Physically 16)  
Ghost

\---------------------

| 

Jenny Kaltaïna  
Age 14  
Werewolf

\---------------------  
  
---|---|---


	2. Gathering (Gavin)

As I arrive at the theater, I double check the note to make sure I’ve got the right place. 

Gavin,  
Meet me at the Loft Cinema in the main theater at midnight tonight  
Others will be joining us as well  
We have urgent matters to discuss  
I promise this isn’t a trap  
-A Friend 

All this is written in Sharpie on the back of a playing card, a two of clubs. I don’t have any friends, and anything that promises not to be a trap is _absolutely_ a trap, which is why I’m here two hours early, hopefully before the trap has been set. Fortunately, while I can’t exactly turn invisible, I can make myself basically unnoticeable by obfuscating, which I’ve been doing since I got in sight of the theater, just in case.

I pull on the door and am only half surprised to find it unlocked. I open it just enough to slip inside and close it silently behind me. I make my way along the hallway to the main theater, find the darkest most hidden corner in the room, and crouch there, obfuscated and waiting.

Nothing happens for over an hour, but then I hear the door open. Some geeky-looking kid with shaggy brown hair and glasses comes in. At first I assume he must work here, but then he pulls out a playing card and studies the back of it, then looks around the room expectantly. “Well, I guess I _am_ early,” he says, apparently to himself, then sits down in one of the theater seats, waiting. He definitely smells human, but there’s something odd about his smell. Something… flowery? Fruity? He smells delicious but also wrong somehow. Even if I were the type to kill humans, I’d be hesitant to drink this one’s blood until I figured out what that smell means.

Minutes go by, then the door opens again, and a tall guy with long brown hair and a leather jacket walks in. This one _definitely_ smells wrong. He smells dead, but not like a vampire. He’s like nothing I’ve ever encountered before. I wait and watch.

The geeky kid turns to look at the new guy. “Oh, hello,” the kid says tentatively. “Are you, you know… here for the meeting?” He holds up his playing card, a four of hearts.

The new guy holds up a three of diamonds and replies, “I guess I am. Would you happen to know who called it?”

The geeky kid shakes his head, then stands up and asks, “What’s your name?”

There’s a pause, then the new guy answers, “Lucas. Lucas Valdez.”

“I’m Joshua Peterson,” the kid says in turn, then holds out his hand for a handshake. They shake hands stiffly, as though they don’t entirely trust each other, then glance around the room awkwardly.

“So…” Joshua begins, “do you know how many people are supposed to show up for this thing?”

Lucas shakes his head distractedly, continuing to look around the room, his eyes narrowing. He sniffs the air, then bares his teeth menacingly. “Someone else is here,” he growls. “Something stinks with the sin of Cain.”

Well, as Cain was the first vampire, he certainly means me. No point in hiding anymore. I drop my obfuscation and stand up from my hiding place. “Hello,” I say, rather lamely, adding a wave for good measure.

 **“Murderer!”** Lucas booms in a chorus of seven deep voices. His eyes flash gold, and the air around him seems to burn with light. His hair billows as though blown by a fierce wind. Great white-gold wings burst from his back and he rises into the air, pointing an accusatory finger directly at me. **“It was your father’s sin that caused the fall! It was his transgression that destroyed Paradise! Everything we worked to create, everything we fought to uphold, its destruction lies on YOUR shoulders, son of Cain!”**

“Whoa! Hey, whoa now! Cool your jets, your holiness!” I hold my hands up in an attempt to calm him down, not really understanding what he is or even half of what he said. “I never killed anybody, except the one who made me this way but technically he was already dead. I don’t kill humans. I don’t deny that I’m a monster, a ‘son of Cain’ as you say, but I don’t want to be, and I fight every day to be better than what I am. If you have a way to wash this stink off me and make me human again, I’d take it in a heartbeat. Not that my heart beats, but you know what I mean.”

Lucas hesitates for a moment, then says, with less certainty, **“But of course, you are lying. You are stained with evil, you would not hesitate to cover one sin with another.”**

I sigh, spreading my hands. “Look, believe what you want to about me, but I was called here for a meeting just like you two.” I hold up my two of clubs. “It's starting to look like maybe this really _isn't_ a trap, but on the off chance it still is I’d rather face it together than turn on each other, at least until we find out what this is really all about. Can we agree to that? Truce until the meeting’s over?”

Lucas glares and grinds his teeth, then floats down to the ground, his wings and aura of burning light dissipating, his voice returning to normal. His eyes continue to glow golden though. “Fine. I will not kill you until we know why we were summoned here. But once that is over, I _will_ be burning the sin of your existence from this world.”

“...What _are_ you people??” Joshua speaks into the silence, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Gavin Navarro. Vampire.” I reply. “Or ‘son of Cain’ as this guy would put it.” I jerk my head in Lucas’s direction.

Lucas speaks proudly. “I am Agathiel, Seraph of the Fifth House, The Standing Harmonic Wave. Or at least,” he says more quietly, “that is who I was before the rebellion. They call me Defiler now, a Demon. In truth, I have sinned at least as greatly as Cain during the War, though his was the first, and all my kind learned from him. But still, perhaps I am not the one to judge…” He tapers off, looking contemplative.

I sneer. “Yeah, great, all I got from that was ‘Agathiel’. So why’d you introduce yourself as Lucas?”

Agathiel fixes me with an angry glare. “Lucas Valdez was the one who owned this body before it died and I took it over. Along with his body I have his mind, his memories. Without a host to live in I would be dragged back into the Abyss, so, for now, I live the life he left behind, until I decide what to do with it now that it is mine.”

I laugh humorlessly. “So you’re possessing a corpse without its owner’s consent, using its body and memories to trick its friends and family into thinking it’s still alive? And you call _me_ a monster…”

Agathiel looks about ready to retort when the clock strikes midnight and the movie projector suddenly turns on, lighting up the screen. Our argument forgotten, all three of us turn to look and see a high-backed leather office chair facing away from us in the middle of an otherwise plain white screen. The chair swivels around and a green-eyed, golden-haired young man is revealed to be sitting in it, wearing a bright green t-shirt, a red vest, and faded blue jeans. He steeples his fingers in front of his face, showing off the large egg-shaped emeralds on the backs of the fingerless black leather gloves he is wearing, and smiles. “I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here today.”

None of us respond. After a moment the figure on the screen chuckles and drops his hands. “I’m sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that.” In a single fluid motion he hops out of the chair and lands on the stage, somehow no longer projected onto the screen but standing in front of it. The chair vanishes as the projector turns off.

“How… did you…” Joshua gapes.

“ _Magic_ ,” he intones dramatically with a flourish of his hands. He looks Joshua up and down and whistles. “My aren’t _you_ beautiful. I didn't realize you would be blue. I only ever drew you in pencil, you see,” he says as though this clarified anything at all. Joshua looks flabbergasted.

I shake my head as though clearing cobwebs from it, deciding to ignore whatever the hell all of _that_ was. “So, you’re the one who called us here?”

“Yes,” he replies, suddenly all business. He flashes an ace of spades like it’s a business card. “I am Calvin Kepter, but you can call me Cal.”

“And what are you, some sort of sorcerer?” Agathiel asks derisively.

“I’m a Mage,” Cal answers, then after a pause continues, “so… yes? I guess? But I’ve never messed with demon summoning if that’s what you mean. Nor necromancy,” he says, perplexingly, to an empty corner of the room. “I do my best to leave other people alone, usually. But fate has conspired to force my hand, and that’s why I’ve gathered you all together here now.”

Cal pauses, and seems to be trying to find the right words to explain something. “Are you all familiar with the placebo effect? Where a sugar pill will work like real medicine because the person taking it _believes_ it to be real medicine? Well, what if I told you that _everything_ is placebo effect? That everything that happens does so because people believe it will, and everything that exists does so because people believe it does?”

“I would tell you that was nonsense,” Agathiel says with a frown. “I was there at the moment of Creation, I helped sculpt reality out of nothing. I myself wrote some of the laws of physics. Things happen the way they do because I and my brethren made them to, as the Almighty commanded us.”

“Yes, that's true,” Cal replies with a nod. “It's true because you believe it is, and truer thanks to all the Catholics out there shoring up your belief with theirs. God used His Angels to carve Creation out of nothingness, _and_ Mother Gaia gave Her body to become the Earth under the heavens, _AND_ the Big Bang scattered matter across the universe which collapsed into stars and planets. All of these things are true, because people believe they are.”

Agathiel scoffs, but looks thoughtful nonetheless. Cal presses on. “Now, for the most part this happens automatically and subconsciously. Most people can't intentionally change reality by changing their beliefs, they are each just one drop in the ocean of consensus that shapes reality for everyone. I, however, am a Mage.” He turns a hand palm up and a tongue of flame appears dancing above it. “I have learned how to hack into the source code of reality and shape it to be whatever I believe it should, consensus be damned. Of course, consensus doesn't like being superseded like that, and if regular people see a breach of reality they can't explain away, consensus fights back against me and tries to reassert itself, usually painfully for me. This is called ‘paradox bite’ and I try very hard to avoid it. It's every Mage’s biggest handicap and what keeps us from ruling the world. Well, except the Technomancers who basically _do_ rule the world because their magic works within consensus making them pretty much immune to paradox. It's really annoying to the rest of us.”

Cal dismisses the flame, shaking his head. “But that’s neither here nor there. My magic isn’t the point, the point is that somebody _else_ is going to use the fact that belief creates reality to cause something terrible to happen. If I’m reading the signs right, it could mean the end of the world, or something similarly devastating. I don't know who they are or how they’re going to pull off whatever it is, but the signs are clear that they’re going to try, and that if we don’t stop them they’re going to succeed.”

Silence falls over the room. After a moment, I speak up. “So, even assuming we believe you -- which would be a big-ass assumption at this point -- what are _we_ supposed to do about it?”

Cal grins. “Well, first of all, we need to go rescue our sixth member. She’s been kidnapped.”

“Sixth?” Joshua asks, looking around. “There’s only four of us.”

Cal hesitates, glancing again at the empty corner he addressed earlier, then replies, “Our fifth member will join us when she is ready, I’m sure. I don’t want to rush her. Now!” He claps his hands and rubs them together vigorously. “Our sixth member is a 14-year-old girl named Jenny, and as I mentioned she’s been kidnapped. I don’t know by who but I do know where. That’s part of why I had us gather here, because it’s nearby to where she’s been taken. I don’t think they’ll hurt her, or at least they won’t kill her. I believe they want to use her as bait to draw in the rest of her tribe.”

“Tribe?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Cal continues, “she’s a werewolf.”

I bristle, immediately not okay with this plan. I may be a monster but at least I keep myself in check, those stupid mongrels are viciousness without reason. Even the violent murdery kind of vampires don’t get along with werewolves, and I _definitely_ don’t want anything to do with them.

I glance around to see how the other two are taking this. Joshua looks, if anything, intrigued, and Agathiel just looks confused. “What… what is a ‘werewolf’?” he asks, puzzled. “Lucas has memories of fiction and myth with that name, but… are you telling me they are real?”

“As real as demons and vampires, yes,” Cal answers simply. Agathiel frowns, and Cal continues, “A lot has happened since you’ve been out of the world, Agathiel. Try to get used to the idea that you don’t know everything.” Agathiel looks furious for a moment, then seems to deflate.

“Fine,” he says with a frustrated sigh. “I am unsure about all this end-of-the-world nonsense, but we should at least go rescue this wolf girl.”

As we all turn to leave, Joshua mumbles under his breath with a smile, “Wow, the Autumn World is a lot more interesting than I gave it credit for.”


	3. Rescue (Agathiel)

This is turning into a very strange first night back on Earth. As we make to leave the room I turn to look at the odd floating apparition that apparently Joshua and Gavin cannot see. If I am right, though I do not see how I can be, it is the soul of a dead human girl, somehow lingering on Earth without a body and without passing on to whatever comes next for human souls. This is something I did not think possible. We lock eyes just long enough that I know she knows I can see her, and then she glides past me through the wall as the rest of us file through the open door.

We make our way along the street, following Cal’s lead to a nearby apartment building. He closes his eyes and holds out an open-palmed hand toward the building, raising and lowering it as though searching for something with it. At last he smiles and points. “That one,” he says quietly. “Third window from the right, second floor. I’m pretty sure that’s a werewolf in there. Walk softly people, we don’t want to spring any traps they might have laid for us.”

We enter the building, taking the stairs up to the second floor and gathering in front of door 207. “My dear, a little reconnaissance, if you please?” Cal asks the soul of the dead girl. She nods solemnly and floats through the wall. Immediately we all hear a gruff-sounding voice yell in panic.

“What the _shit_ is _that!?_ Fuck! Kill it! _Kill it with fire!!_ ” Followed by a chattering sound that Lucas’s memories tell me is the sound of several machine guns firing at once.

“Whoa!” Cal yells in surprise as tiny holes start appearing in the wall in front of us. He throws up his hands and the air between us and the wall starts to shimmer, and small bits of shiny metal start bouncing off the shimmering air and landing on the floor.

The dead girl floats back out through the wall unfazed as the gunfire continues behind her. “I don’t think they like me very much,” she deadpans, her voice sounding like wind through an empty canyon.

Cal nods, and says with a frown, “Well, so much for the element of surprise. I didn’t think they’d be able to see you. Damn. Buckle up, people, we’re going in hot. Those of us who aren’t bulletproof will hang back until the guns are dealt with.”

I search Lucas’s memories for an explanation of guns and bullets, and feel confident that they are no real threat to me.

“The rest of you,” Cal grins maniacally, “do what you do best!”

Gavin and I take the lead while the dead girl floats close behind us. Gavin leans toward me and whispers, “So, it’s a ghost, right? The invisible thing Cal keeps talking to?”

Lucas knows this word ‘ghost’ and it does seem a fit for the dead girl’s lingering soul. But I hear her say in my ear, “Don’t tell him, please, not yet. Let me do it. When I’m ready.”

Obligingly, I just shrug. “I do not know. ‘Ghost’ is a word Lucas knows from fiction to mean the soul of a dead human lingering in the world of the living, but if that is a real thing it is as new to me as werewolves. That was not something that happened before I was imprisoned.” All of which is true.

We reach the door. By now the gunfire has stopped, but surely it will start again the moment any of us enters the room. Gavin looks at me and says, “On three?” I nod.

“One.”

“Two.”

“ _Three!_ ”

We kick the door at the same time and it flies off its hinges into the room. As predicted, guns immediately start firing and I feel the bullets rip into my flesh. The pain is exquisite. Similar in intensity to the motorcycle crash but so different in timbre. I revel in it as I charge into the room. I feel my skin ripping, my muscles tearing. It is only flesh, and flesh is easily mended. I find myself more worried about the damage to my leather jacket, but I am sure that is Lucas’s influence creeping in on my consciousness as I can mend leather as easily as skin. I allow some of my true self to bleed through Lucas’s body, shedding glorious light and sprouting mighty wings. I can taste the fear in the air, and it mixes well with the pain. Memories of the War flood through me and it is like I am back on that prehistoric battlefield, fighting the Heavenly Host in the name of Lucifer and our love for humanity. In seconds I am upon the first one, wrenching the gun from his hands. Neither the gun nor his hands survive the process. He screams. I put my hand through his neck. He stops screaming.

I turn to see how Gavin is doing with the second one. Her gun is on the floor and her neck is in Gavin’s mouth. Gavin notices me and drops the body guiltily, blood on his lips. “It’s not murder if it’s in self defense!” he yells defiantly, pointing accusingly at the body I just decapitated. I grumble. Point goes to the son of Cain.

I turn to the third one and freeze. The scene burns itself into my mind. He is holding a little girl who looks to be about ten years old, skin and bones like she hasn’t eaten in weeks, hair thin and wispy and silvery-white, skin so pale it is almost transparent. She is wearing a purple t-shirt and ragged blue jeans that are both about three sizes too big for her, and pink glasses so thick they make her reddish-pink eyes look much too big for her face. There is a pink bow in her hair, and she is barefoot. This must be Jenny, and the barrel of a machine gun is pressed against her head.

“Get the _fuck_ back unless you want to see the inside of the girl’s skull!” the man yells. Jenny whimpers incoherently, tears streaming down her face. Gavin and I look worriedly at each other, then put our hands up and take a step back.

I glance at Gavin again and whisper, “What do we do?” He just shakes his head and shrugs, not taking his eyes off the machine gun pressed against Jenny’s head.

As we are trying to figure out our next move, Tabitha slides out of the wall behind the man holding Jenny. We make eye contact for just an instant before she moves forward into his body, overlapping with him. There is a moment’s pause, then the man’s eyes widen and he says, “What the--” in a strangled voice as his arm slowly pulls itself up, moving the gun away from Jenny’s head. He seems to be struggling against this with all his might, but the gun slowly turns upward. He looks terrified. The machine gun presses against his lips as his own hand forces the barrel into his mouth. Tears appear on his face as he mumbles around the metal, “No, please…” and then he pulls the trigger.

There is a burst of gunfire, and blood and brains splatter the wall behind him. He crumples to the ground, leaving Tabitha standing in his place. Jenny is standing there next to the body, she and Gavin both looking shocked, confused, and more than a little scared. Gavin looks at me and whispers, “Was that you?” I just shake my head. He raises an eyebrow, then turns to the door and calls out, “The guns have been dealt with!”

A moment later Cal and Joshua enter the room. Cal blanches and Joshua’s eyes widen as he covers his mouth, then runs back the way he came, where the sound of vomiting can be heard.

“Yes, well…” Cal seems to be at a loss for words. “...I did say ‘do what you do best’, didn’t I. My fault. Good job guys, but, in the future, let’s try to take them _alive_ , for questioning, okay? We can learn precious little from dead bodies.” He closes his eyes and shudders, then regains his composure. “Right. Anyway,” he turns to the girl with a gentle smile, “you must be Jenny. Hello.”

“Are… are you here to rescue me? Who are you?” she asks warily.

Cal nods. “My name is Calvin Kepter, and yes, we’re here to rescue you.”

She smiles at him, but still looks afraid, and says nervously, “Then… can you get these things off me? They’re locking me in Homid form.” She turns and lifts her hands, which are locked behind her back in silver manacles. After a moment's hesitation, Gavin grumbles and steps forward, pulling a set of lockpicks out of a pocket. Jenny shrinks back from him, eyeing him suspiciously. “You stink. You smell like the Wyrm. I know what you are, you’re a Vampire. Why are you helping me?”

Gavin jerks his head toward Cal. “Because this asshole says the world will end if I don’t. Now hold still.”

Jenny does not look any less suspicious, but holds still while he works on the manacles. She looks at Cal and sniffs the air. “You… you’re surrounded by the smell of the Weaver but none of it is on you. Are you… a Mage?” Cal nods with a smile, clearly impressed. “I’ve never met a Mage before, but I’ve heard rumors of them hunting werewolf Caerns to suck all the magic out of them. You’re not here to steal my family’s magic are you?”

Cal chuckles, but not unkindly. “No, dear one, I’m not here to steal your magic. I have plenty of my own. I’m here to help you in the hope that, in turn, you will help me save the world.”

Jenny seems to accept this and turns toward Joshua. She sniffs the air, then smiles and says cryptically, “You smell like the Wyld. I bet you’d be fun to play with.” Joshua doesn’t seem to know what to make of this.

Jenny then glances in the direction of the ghost girl in the corner of the room, and I get the impression that she can sense her but not actually see her. She gives a small smile and says, “You don’t have to hide, spirit. I won’t hurt you.”

The ghost replies, “I am not hiding from you. There are those to whom I am not yet ready to reveal myself.”

Jenny nods respectfully and turns, at last, to me. She sniffs the air, and her eyes go wide with terror. “You… what _are_ you? You don’t smell like the Weaver, the Wyrm, _or_ the Wyld, you smell… _scary_. Like power and fury and the ocean. I’ve never smelled anything like you in my life.” She tries to back away, causing Gavin to break a lockpick and swear. “Are you going to eat me? Please don’t eat me!”

Well, this is not a terribly unusual reaction from a mortal, but usually I get this response by revealing myself in all my glory and splendor. “Be not afraid” is like “hello” from an angel when dealing with humans, but I have already hidden myself away in a mortal body; I can hardly make myself any less scary than I already am. I am not really sure what to do, so I stick with the basics. “Do not be afraid, I am not going to hurt you. I am here to help.” She does not seem to believe me, but she at least holds still long enough for Gavin to finally get the manacles off of her.

Immediately her form begins to change, and a moment later she looks very different: She is about a foot and a half taller, actually looking like she could be 14 rather than 10. She no longer looks starving, in fact there is decent muscle tone under her very pale skin. Her clothes fit properly now, and her hair is longer, fuller, and less wispy. Her ears, fingernails, toenails, and teeth all seem to be slightly pointed, and just barely noticeable are wispy white hairs covering her arms and the tops of her feet, hands, and chest. “Oh, that is _so_ much better,” she says, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. Seeing everyone’s confused looks, she says, “This form is more me. Plus it’s not as puny and frail.”

When this does not alleviate the confusion, Cal speaks up. “She just took Glabro form, which is like a human plus half of a wolf mixed in as well. It’s halfway from Homid to Crinos, which is the war form, the full mixture of human and wolf. Hispo is halfway from Crinos to Lupus, and Lupus is the full wolf form.”

Jenny looks both shocked and annoyed. “How do you know all this? You’re not Garou!”

“I’m a Mage,” Cal replies simply. “It’s my job to know things.”

“Well, don’t just tell everybody! Those are Garou secrets!”

Cal rubs the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “Right, sorry about that.”


	4. Mystery (Jocelyn)

“Now can we get out of here before the cops crash the party?” the vampire asks testily. I'm still boggling a little at vampires being real. And demons,  _ and  _  werewolves. This is all so  _ cool! _

Cal shakes his head. “Not yet. We need to learn what we can from these bodies.”

Oh right. That part's less cool.

“Besides,” Cal continues, “this entire apartment has been placed behind the Veil.”

“The ‘Veil’?” Agathiel asks, confused.

“Yeah. The unenlightened human mind has a filter on it that doesn’t allow it to believe in monsters, telling it to look away and disbelieve if it ever sees a vampire or a werewolf or anything like that. It’s why the world of magic remains hidden despite being everywhere. There’s an enchantment on this apartment placing it behind the Veil as though it itself were a monster, telling humans to just ignore it and don’t think about it too hard. It’s an impressive bit of magic but I don’t recognize the paradigm; it wasn’t done by any kind of Mage I’m familiar with…”

This whole idea of magic happening  _ outside _ the Dreaming is new to me, and fascinating. The most I can manage in this world is pulling someone with me into the other one. If humans can do magic in the Autumn World, certainly I can, too. I just have to figure out  _ how _ .

The others start investigating the three dead bodies around us. I hate the sight and smell of blood and death soaking into everything. Not fun. I try to focus on my fellow questants and tune out the bodies. Cal is crouched down on the balls of his feet, looking at something on the floor. He picks it up in two fingers and looks more closely at it, wiping redness off of it with a thumb, revealing shiny white beneath. “Silver,” he says, and I realize he is looking at a bloody bullet. “They were expecting werewolves. It’s a good thing we got here before Jenny’s family did, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.” Jenny gives a small whimper at this. Cal’s gaze sweeps the room, an impressed look on his face. “All three of them were armed with automatic weapons, and all of their bullets were silver. That’s a  _ lot _ of silver, and a lot of custom made bullets; they don't exactly sell these at Walmart. A lot of time and money went into setting up this ambush. The real question is ‘why?’. Why go to all this trouble to kill off a few werewolves? I would understand if they were vampires -- vamps and werewolves hate each other on principle -- or even a rival clan of werewolves having a turf war, but they seem to be humans. Their knowledge of the supernatural and use of magic makes me think they might be Mages, but again, I don’t recognize the paradigm, and most Mages don’t go out of their way to kill werewolves. At most they just sneak into a Caern, steal its power, then run away.” Cal turns to look at Agathiel. “You'd be able to tell if they were demons, right?”

Agathiel nods, but frowns uncertainly. “I believe so,” he says, “though, I have only been back on Earth for a few hours, and to my knowledge have not encountered another of my kind in that time, so I do not know by what method we would recognize each other, if indeed we would. I can say with some certainty, though, that a fellow demon would have been far less susceptible to injuries of the flesh than these three were.”

Cal looks pensive. “To be frank, you're the only one of your kind I'm aware of. I know Mages have summoned demons in the past, and bound them to tasks with magic, but before tonight I never heard of a demon breaking  _ itself _ out of Hell and inhabiting a body by its own will.”

Agathiel nods. “I do not believe such a thing has happened before tonight, but I do not believe I am the only one who has done so. Several of us escaped Hell together, though we were separated in the Maelstrom. I do not know what became of the others, but presumably those who survived the Maelstrom either found bodies to inhabit as I did or were pulled back into the Abyss.”

“Well,” Cal continues thoughtfully, “if something new like you can happen, maybe these kidnappers are something new as well. I hope not, that would make our job much more difficult. Hopefully they're just rogue mages who have a hate-on for werewolves for some reason. And if we're  _ really  _ lucky, these three were working alone. That seems incredibly unlikely though.” He pulls out a deck of cards, shuffles it, and starts dealing onto the floor in a strange pattern. He frowns. “No, the future hasn’t changed. Whatever is going to happen, we didn’t stop it by killing these three. They must be connected to something bigger.”

“They might not be connected at all, though,” I speak up. Everyone turns to look at me. I falter at the sudden attention, but press on, “Like, just because they kidnapped Jenny doesn’t mean they’re part of whatever’s going to end the world. The two things might not have anything to do with each other.”

Cal seems to think about this, then says slowly, “Well, that’s true, they might not be connected, but if they aren’t then I have no idea where we go from here. So let’s hope we find  _ some  _ kind of clue on these guys that leads us somewhere useful, and if not, that some other lead presents itself.”

“ _ You _ have no idea?” Gavin sneers sarcastically. “I thought it was ‘your job to know things’, O wise and glorious leader.”

Cal smiles indulgently. “I know more than most, but still far short of everything.” Gavin harrumphs.

Agathiel speaks up, “Is this significant? All three of them have a white hand painted on their… is this armor?”

I force myself to look. The first thing I notice is he doesn’t have a head. I gag. Then I notice he’s dressed neck to toe in bulky camo-patterned gear that probably  _ is  _ armored if they were expecting to go up against werewolf claws and teeth. Finally, I notice a shiny white paint handprint right over the man’s heart, which is what Agathiel is pointing at.

Cal looks at it with interest. “I’m sure that does mean something, yes, but the question is ‘what?’. It seems like it could be a logo for whatever group they’re part of, like an insignia so they recognize each other. We should keep an eye out for it as we continue to investigate, it may crop up again.” Cal then turns to the one with a bite out of her neck and starts rifling through her pockets. “Bullets, grenades, more bullets… A wallet with nothing but cash, no IDs or anything… Hm, what’s this?” He’s looking at the inside of the jacket collar. “There’s a tag here, with a business name and an address. Do you think that’s where they got these armored jackets made?”

“Let me guess,” Gavin says, rolling his eyes, “‘there’s only one way to find out’.”

* * *

“Are you sure this is the right building?” I ask as we approach. It took us a couple of hours to get here. The sun’s not even up yet -- which is good for Gavin, I assume -- but a few places are starting to open. The building in question is a small warehouse that looks more like a concrete bunker than a place of business. There's no signage anywhere, just an address over the front door.

Cal looks at the tag he ripped off of one of the armored jackets. “It's the right address, at least,” he says, frowning uncertainly.

“This place looks  _ nothing _ like Paradise,” Agathiel mutters.

Finding the door unlocked, we go in, a bell on the door jingling to announce our arrival. A girl on the other side of the counter with long brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and dressed in camo fatigues glances up at us. Cal speaks first. “Hello, is this Prepper’s Paradise?”

The girl blows a bubblegum bubble lazily and looks at her unpainted nails. “That depends. Who's asking?”

Cal pulls a badge out of the inside of his vest. “Detective Calvin Kepter, undercover. I'm looking for--"

“Let me stop you right there, officer,” the girl interrupts, her face gone stone cold. “We don't do cops here. Come back with a signed court order. And the judge who signed it, to verify his signature. And I  _ still _ won't answer any questions beyond what's required by law. Now get off my property.”

Cal looks stunned. Clearly he chose the wrong cover story. Whatever, I can handle this.

I walk up toward the girl, keeping my hands where she can see them, a neutral expression on my face. She eyes me suspiciously and says, “And what's your story, twerp?”

In a flash I touch a finger to her forehead and whisper, “Sleeeeeeeeep…”

She drops to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. I turn to the others. “You guys have a look around, I'm going to see what I can drum up from inside her mind.”

Everyone looks shocked except Cal, who nods and says “Great idea. Let's go, everyone.”

I turn to the girl on the floor, bend my knees, and hop into her dreams.

Wind howls from every direction, whipping my fur left and right. Crumbling buildings dot the landscape from here to the horizon in every direction. Rusted-out abandoned cars litter the cracked and torn-up streets. Lightning flashes in a storm-torn sky, but there is no rain. “Apocalyptic Hellscape" would be underselling this place. This is someone's dream world? It seems more like a nightmare.

I conjure one of my chimera, a giant winged toad, and hop on its back. “Help me find the Dreamer!” I yell over the storm. The toad croaks, spreads its wings, and hops into the air.

It might have taken days, or maybe just minutes (time is more fluid in the Dreaming), but eventually we find a broken-down building that looks exactly like all the others, except this one is bleeding Glamour into the sky, feeding the storm. If this were the Autumn World, no human would ever have found her, but you can't hide from fae in the Dreaming.

I consider flying directly in, but the worst thing I can possibly do right now is come off as aggressive. The second worst thing I can do is come off as needy. I need to approach from the front, offering a fair trade with something she wants, or I won't get anywhere. This place is a fortress against anything else.

I land a good distance from the building and dismiss the toad. I approach what seems like it might be an entrance and sure enough I hear a shotgun cock.

“What the  _ hell _ are you supposed to be?” yells the Dreamer through the howling winds.

“I'm a Satyr! A spirit of joy and freedom come to offer you some comfort and company in this troubled time!”

She looks very suspicious. “What's the catch?”

I smile, shedding some Glamour into the air, impregnating the breeze with the heady scent of honeysuckle and warm mulled wine. “The catch is that you have to give me comfort and company in return!” I add a bit of pan flute to the howling of the wind. Nothing to make her do anything she doesn't already want to, just taking those pesky inhibitions and getting them out of the way of her true desires.

She seems to be wavering, but grips her shotgun more fiercely. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“I'm here because rugged individualism is lonely work. You have earned a bit of soft comfort from a warm body, and I can be quite the comforting companion.” I smile seductively and wink.

She hesitates for several moments, then says, “Fine, come in, but I'm keeping my gun.”

* * *

She lies naked on her sleeping bag, sweaty and passed out in post-orgasmic bliss, the shotgun still in her hand. I sigh, pulling my gauzy shirt back down over my breasts. That was easy.

I get up, taking a look around the inside of the bunker. Everyone stores their memories differently. Hers appear to be stored in gunmetal green ammunition boxes. Hopefully she has a decent organizational system or this could take forever. Literally. I start poking through them, looking for anything related to silver. It takes me several years or maybe moments but eventually I find a recent memory tagged “silver”. I take a deep breath, and dive in.

* * *

I blow a bubblegum bubble as the front door jingles open. Four rough-looking people walk in, three of them carrying briefcases. The front guy walks up and slaps a piece of paper on the counter. I pick it up and look at it. Seven fully-automatic weapons, a dozen magazines for each of those weapons filled with…  _ silver _ bullets? I raise an eyebrow. Twenty-one grenades with silver shrapnel, and seven kevlar jackets with silver woven into the lining. I raise the other eyebrow, and look up. The two guys with briefcases heft them up and drop them onto the counter with a loud “thud”. They spin them around, then open them. They are both filled wall to wall with silver ingots. The woman with a briefcase drops it on the counter and opens it. It's filled with cash. Well, cash means no questions. I nod, take the paper and briefcases behind the counter, and say, “Gimme a week. This ain't my usual so it'll take a bit to get it done.”

I spend the next few days recalibrating my machines to work with silver. One of them breaks, but that much cash buys a quick replacement. Soon the machines are churning out silver bullets and silver grenades and silver-infused kevlar lining. It doesn’t pay to wonder what these guys are up to but I can’t help but be curious. You don’t drop this kind of cash on a whim or a vanity project, they really think this is going to protect them from something. Maybe they’re wackos who actually believe in werewolves? But that kind of nut job rarely has access to this kind of cash, so who knows. They even provided the silver, meaning I’m making a small fortune in profit off this job. That buys a lot of unasked questions.

They return a week later, pick up their goods without so much as a word, and leave, piling into a big-ass black truck with a big white handprint painted on the side. Don’t know what that means, paid enough not to care.

* * *

The memory fades as I return to the Dreaming. I didn’t recognize any of those four, so the ones we killed must have been the other three of the seven. Which means those four are still out there, probably wondering why their buddies haven’t checked in yet. That’s not good.

I put everything back where I found it and look around. This chick has quite the imagination. Even if I’m not a fan of what she’s imagining, imagination means Glamour, and that I can use. I place my lips to hers and drink deeply, feeding on her hopes and fears and desires -- in short, her Dreams. Tastes like sweat and gunpowder but I’ll take what I can get. With that done, I slide back out of the Dreaming and return to the Autumn World.

I ease back into my wrong body and look around. I can hear the others rooting around in the back, so I go to join them. “What have you guys found?” I ask as I enter the back room.

Everyone pauses to look at me. I feel uncomfortable. Cal speaks up. “Silver shavings on the floor, silver residue on the machines, this is almost certainly where the stuff was made, but that’s about all we can tell from back here.”

I nod. “She definitely made the stuff, I got into her memories. Four people I don’t recognize -- three guys and a girl -- provided the silver and a ton of cash in exchange for enough guns and silver bullets and silver grenades and silver-lined kevlar jackets for seven people.”

Gavin cracks his knuckles. “Three down, four to go.”


	5. The Chase (Tabitha)

At this, my inhibition breaks and I can no longer keep my silence. “No, Gavin, please, don’t…” I say, fading into visibility at last. Gavin and Joshua both look startled, the others just look interested. I ignore them, my focus on my son. “You’ve done such a good job keeping yourself from violence until now. That kidnapper was the first human you ever killed, and while it was not in cold blood, I do not want you to start sliding. Do not seek out violence, please. You’ve done so well to hold back the monster inside you, don’t let that slip now.”

Gavin looks taken aback, but tries to cover it with a sneer. “So, what, you’ve been watching me?”

I nod solemnly. “I have been watching you since you were born.”

Gavin looks angry now. “Yeah? And why do  _ you  _ care so much!? What’s it to you how I live my unlife?”

I hesitate. This is the moment I have been avoiding, the moment I have been dreading. For all eternity, this moment can never be undone. “Because… I am your mother.”

Silence hangs in the room. Nobody moves, nobody breathes for several moments. Cal nondescriptly gathers Joshua and Agathiel and Jenny and absconds with them to the other room. Gavin remains motionless, staring.

“M… Mom?” His voice breaks. I simply nod.

“But… they told me at the orphanage you died in childbirth…”

“I did. And I’ve been watching over you ever since.”

Drops of blood appear at the corners of his eyes. My instinct is to dry his tears, but I cannot touch him. Though maybe, maybe I can be solid enough for this… I focus my corpus as hard as I can into my thumb and reach forward, trying with all my might to manifest, to take form, to wipe his tears away.

A red streak smears across his cheek, and I am exhausted. It is the best I can do. We stay there, awkwardly aware of each other but unable to do anything about it, desperate for a hug, for an emotional reunion, but powerless to make contact. Pitifully, I raise a hand and wave. He laughs humorlessly, shedding more tears of blood, and waves back. What a pair we make.

I want to tell him how much I love him, that I've always loved him since before he was born, from the moment I knew he existed, but the words won't come. Silence hangs in the air like a curtain between us. It soon becomes clear that the moment has passed. I am sure we will have much to talk about later, but this is as far as we will go for now. Gavin wipes his eyes on his sleeve and we join the others in the outer room.

Everyone is sitting in a circle on the floor behind the counter next to the sleeping clerk girl. As we enter the room, I hear Joshua talking. He stops when everyone looks up at us. Cal smiles, and says, “Welcome back! Joce-” he coughs, “Joshua here was just recounting the rest of what he found in the proprietor’s memories. Specifically, he saw the kidnappers’ truck, big and black with the same white hand painted on it that they put on the jackets.”

Jenny seems to be concentrating very hard on something. “I feel like I’ve seen that truck before,” she says slowly, “but I don’t remember where…”

“Let me help you,” Joshua says, placing a hand on each of Jenny’s temples. They sit there, locked in silence for a few moments, then Joshua releases his grip and they both lean back, eyes wide with surprise.

“The parking lot!” they both cry out in unison. We all look at them expectantly.

“The supermarket parking lot where I was kidnapped,” Jenny clarifies. “The truck was parked there one row over and a few spaces down from my parents’ van. I never looked directly at it but I must have seen it because it was there in my memories!”

Cal stands up and asks excitedly, “If we go back to that parking lot, could you show me the  _ exact  _ space the truck was in?”

Jenny looks thoughtful. “I think so. With Joshua’s help I think I can.”

Cal claps his hands and rubs them together. “Excellent. If I can find its exact point of origin, I think I can use magic to track it from there.”

Gavin sighs, taking a pair of ski-goggle sunglasses out of a pocket. “I assume we need to do this now, rather than waiting for sunset? Because sunrise is in just an hour or so, I can smell it.”

“Probably best to catch them before the trail goes cold or they do something worse, or both,” Cal says with a nod.

Gavin pulls up the hood of his long black cloak and zips it closed around him, the zip going all the way up to his eyes so the hood becomes like a balaclava, then covers the eye opening by putting on the giant sunglasses over it. “Fine,” he says, his voice muffled. “Let’s go then.”

I have seen him sweat copious amounts of blood in this outfit in the Tucson summer noon, but as it’s early morning in winter he should be fine for a few hours at least. I, of course, cannot feel the heat of the sun, being without a body.

We make our way across town, following Jenny’s lead. Jenny has taken Hispo form, I assume because it is better for traveling in. She looks like a large silver wolf with long lithe legs that look made for running long distances. On her own in the wilderness she would look terrifying, but here in the city with a group of people, she could pass for a large wolf-like dog. It was interesting to watch this transformation, as her clothing shifted with her, becoming her fur. However, her hair bow and glasses stayed exactly the same, looking adorably out of place on her now wolfish body. I assume this is the kind of thing that the Veil would force ordinary humans to ignore, or at worst, find cute.

The sun peeks over the mountains outside of town, shooting rays of red and gold into the sky in front of us. Gavin’s involuntary fear is palpable, but his protective outfit holds true as it always has.

Suddenly we are all startled by the sound of a siren. I am relieved to remember that I am already invisible, but still worried on behalf of the others. A police car pulls up beside us on the street, its lights flashing. A black policeman rolls down the window and leans out of it, peering carefully at Cal’s face. “Are you Calvin Kepter?” he asks gruffly.

“Yyyesss?” Cal replies nervously.

A wide grin splits the policeman’s face. “Oh my god, I  _ loved _ you on ‘America’s Got Talent’! Can I have your autograph?”

Cal’s panic dissolves in an instant and he matches the policeman’s grin. With a flourish he pulls a pen and paper out of thin air, causing the policeman to gasp, then says, “Who should I make it out to?”

“Andrew Johnson!” the policeman says with an impressed sparkle in his eye. “Man, I am so glad you won, I was rooting for you! You were the best one on there by far!”

“Well thank you very much!” Cal says, tearing off the sheet of paper and handing it to the policeman. “Always nice to meet a fan!”

The policeman takes the sheet of paper, thanking Cal profusely, but as he’s leaning back into the car he pauses, and says, “You know, that dog really should be on a leash. And what’s his deal?” He points with his thumb at Gavin.

“Oh. Skin condition. Needs to stay out of the sun,” Cal explains casually, pulling a leash out of his jeans pocket that I am sure was not there before. He clips it around Jenny’s neck, and the fur on her back rises indignantly. The policeman hesitates, still eyeing Gavin suspiciously, but seems unable to find another excuse to remain.

The tension tangibly drops as the policeman says goodbye, rolls up his window, and drives away. Jenny turns her face back to look at Cal and says, “Okay, he’s gone, take this thing off me now please.”

Cal shakes his head. “Sorry, it’s part of our disguise now. I don’t want to get stopped by a cop who isn’t predisposed to let me off with a warning. You’re welcome to travel as a human, but if you’re pretending to be a dog, you need to be on a leash. Rules are rules.”

Jenny does  _ not _ look happy about this, but simply growls resignedly and returns to walking, muttering, “Human feet are  _ terrible _ on concrete.”

“That’s why we wear shoes,” Cal says brightly. Jenny huffs and says nothing.

Eventually we make it to the parking lot where Jenny was kidnapped. She works with Joshua to get back to the spot her family’s van was parked in -- notably empty now -- and work from there to the spot she remembers seeing the kidnappers’ truck parked in, where there is now a grey sedan. Cal reaches out with both arms, hands spread wide, palms facing the sedan. A pair of glowing green strings that seem to be made of light snake out from his palms and begin tracing the shape of a large truck around the grey sedan. Once the model is complete, he lets out the breath he seems to have been holding that whole time, and looks satisfied. “Well, hop in!” he says casually, climbing into the bed of the truck, which seems to be solid somehow despite being made of strings of light. Jenny is the first to jump in after him, curling up in a corner. Gavin, Agathiel, and Joshua follow, taking up seats around the perimeter. Cal waves to me.

I float up to the back. “I’ll… follow in the air,” I say, eyeing the truck uncertainly. Cal nods, understanding. He snaps his fingers and an invisible engine roars to life, then the truck pulls out of the parking space and begins to drive.


	6. Home (Jenny)

As the magic truck drives further and further, I get more and more nervous. I know these streets it’s driving on, I recognize the route it’s taking. It’s going the same way we always go when coming back from the supermarket. It’s heading out of town, up into the mountains, toward my family’s Caern. Toward home.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” I ask Cal nervously, lifting my head to look at him.

Cal nods. “This is exactly what the truck did after leaving that space. Why?”

“You’re sure you didn’t somehow get my family’s van by mistake?”

Cal raises an eyebrow. “Not unless your family’s van was a truck, and parked in that space. Why?” But I can see on his face that he had already guessed why. I just shake my head and lie down again, worrying silently.

As we get out of town and up into the mountains, the concrete jungle is replaced by a forest of trees. I take a deep breath and immediately smell something wrong, though I can’t place it. Whatever the wrong smell is it’s too far away to get a good read on it yet. As we keep going, I keep my nose up, waiting to smell what it is.

We’re about two miles away from home when I recognize the smell. Smoke. I stand up on my paws, afraid now, watching the road ahead. The truck stops about half a mile away from home and the doors open, and then close. Cal sighs and stands up. “I guess this is where they got out, and thus, where we get out.” He turns to me, concern etched on his face. “I take it you can lead us from here?”

I nod, hopping out of the truck and heading toward home, the smell of smoke so overwhelming I imagine even the humans can smell it by now. We walk the half mile or so of forest path, which the truck could have driven because my family’s van makes the trip all the time, but I guess they wanted to be stealthier or something. We reach the top of a hill, and my heart drops into my stomach.

The first thing I see is our family van on fire, belching black smoke into the air. Then I notice that the surrounding forest is also on fire. If this isn’t put out soon it will spread to the kind of forest fire that makes the human news. Cal seems to have the same thought and steps forward, holding his hands out in front of him and then sweeping his arms around as though winding a giant rope around himself. The fire all seems to unstick from what it is burning and whirl through the air toward Cal, ending up swirling between his hands. Once he has gathered all of it, he pushes his hands together, shrinking the fire until he eventually snuffs it out. The smoke remains, but the flames are gone. The Caern, however, has been destroyed. I can feel it. There is no magic left here; the patterns of energy have been disrupted and this is just an ordinary chunk of burnt forest now.

Finally, I notice the bodies. I don’t know why it took me so long -- I guess the fire took all my attention -- but several werewolf bodies are scattered around the area, looking human or wolf in death depending on how they were born. Most are ridden with bullet holes and all have been burned by the fire. Their smells are tainted by silver and smoke but still I recognize all of them. This was my family. This was my tribe.

“ _ YOU! _ ” I whirl on the vampire, enraged. “This is  _ your _ fault, somehow!”

The vampire raises a surprised eyebrow. I notice he’s taken his hood down; I guess the trees and smoke block the sun enough for him. “Me? I was with  _ you  _ the whole time. How can this  _ possibly  _ be my fault?”

“Vile creature of the Wyrm, your very  _ existence  _ stinks of evil and lies! You wanted my family dead, admit it!”

The creature’s eyes narrow. “Okay, you want an admission? I had nothing to do with this, but I’m not exactly sorry it’s done. Another pack of mongrels wiped off the face of the Earth? Seems to me cause to celebrate.”

“Hold your tongue, son of Cain!” Agathiel bellows, standing beside me. “I will not stand idly by while one who has suffered such loss is spoken to in that way, especially not by one of  _ your _ foul kind!”

The dead spirit appears floating in front of the creature of darkness, anger the first emotion I have seen on her face, and she says, “You will not harm my son!”

“Guyyyys…” Cal says with trepidation, glancing back and forth between us. “This should be a bringing-us-together thing, not a tearing-us-apart thing, don’t you think?”

“ _ No! _ ” I yell, anger more important than any other thoughts right now. “You heard him! He’s  _ happy  _ my family’s dead! He would have done it himself if he could have!  _ Wouldn’t you!? _ ”

The thing smirks. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, it’s nothing personal.”

I snap. I shift into Crinos form -- feeling my bones stretch and my muscles expand as my body mass nearly doubles -- and am about to charge when I feel a hand touch the back of my neck.

“Shhhhhh…”

* * *

Suddenly I am in a different forest, near a werewolf Caern but the vampire is gone, along with the rest of the group. It smells like home, but it also reeks of the Wyld. The smoke and dead bodies are all gone, and the trees are wrong, too big and twisty and not like normal trees. Standing next to me is a female Wyld spirit, tall and blue with goat legs and horns. It takes me a moment to think past my anger and recognize Joshua’s spirit form from when she helped me with my memories.

“You… you made me sleep?” I ask, still angry but more shocked.

Joshua’s dream spirit smiles playfully. “Well, yeah. You were about to start a massive fight. Couldn’t have that now could we?”

I glance down at my body and notice I am still in Crinos form. I reluctantly shift back into the less-threatening Glabro form. Joshua’s smile widens.

“Thaaaat’s better,” she croons. “Now, if I wake you up, do you promise not to attack anyone? Because otherwise, I’m not waking you up.”

I don’t want to promise that. I want to fight, I want to be angry, because if I’m angry then I can’t be sad. My family… My whole tribe… Gone… I feel hot wetness on my face and realize that I’ve started to cry.

Joshua wraps me in a hug, and makes soft whispery noises in my ear. “I know,” she says softly, “I know…”

“...Thanks Joshua,” I say through the tears.

“Jocelyn. In here, I am Jocelyn.”

I nod.

“Now, will you come back to the Autumn World with me? I’m sure the others will want to comfort you as well.”

I nod.

“I need you to promise not to attack anyone, okay?”

I nod a third time.

“Okay.”

* * *

As I gradually regain consciousness, the first thing I notice is a pain on my chin. The next thing I notice is I am lying face down on the ground. Then I notice I am in Glabro form -- the dream shift having apparently happened in reality, too -- and my face is covered in tears. I push myself up onto my knees, wiping my face uselessly as the tears are still coming. Joshua -- or, Jocelyn, I guess -- is crouching beside me, watching me. I glance around. Everyone else is watching me, too, though Gavin and Agathiel are shooting dirty looks at each other every couple of seconds. The sight of Gavin wakes an ember of rage inside me again, but it is quickly doused by sadness. It’s not his fault. He’s gross and icky and smells like the Wyrm but he didn’t kill my parents. The white-hand people did.  _ They’re _ the ones I should be mad at. They’re the ones I need to kill.

“We weren’t fighters,” I say, tears welling up anew. “We were a Children of Gaia tribe. We weren’t like the Red Talons or the Silver Fangs, we just wanted peace with everyone. We didn’t attack humans, we never attacked anybody. Why would they do this to us?” I sob. “We weren’t built for battle, we weren’t used to it. They would have torn right through us…” I turn to Cal. “The truck,” I say, wiping my eyes. “The magic truck. We can keep using it, right? To keep following where they went next?”

“Yes…” Cal says slowly, thinking. “We can, and we probably should, but I think not just yet. Some of us have been awake for over 24 hours at this point, and the whole point of chasing them right away was to keep them from doing something like what they’ve already done.” He motions to the burnt remains of my Caern. “They’re not likely to do any worse than this right away, they’re probably going back to a hideout to regroup and plan their next strike. If we’re going to meet them on their home turf I’d rather do so while well rested and with our own vehicle, not riding in a magic replica of their truck. Jenny,” he turns to me and asks gently, “do I have permission to fix and use your family’s bus?”

I sniff. “We call it a van, but, sure, I guess. It’s not doing anyone any good otherwise…”

He nods. “Thank you. I think your van will make a good mobile command center for us.”

He holds a hand out toward it, brings his fingers in as though grabbing something, then slowly twists his wrist counterclockwise as though turning an invisible doorknob. The van glows slightly, then starts to change. The burn marks seem to shrink as smoke pours into it. Flames appear and burn in reverse. It’s like I’m watching the burning of my family’s van rewinding and undoing itself. Finally the smoke clears and the flames un-burn themselves to nothing, and the van is there just as it was when my parents drove it there from the supermarket, I guess to get the rest of the tribe to help look for me.

Cal nods, satisfied. “Alright, everyone into the van and get some sleep. We move out at sunset.”


	7. The Chase Continues (Cal)

I wake up. It’s dark, I’m in the front passenger seat of a VW Bus, parked in the middle of a burned-up forest clearing that feels like it used to be a Place of Power. What the hell? I ask myself groggily. Then memories of the last 24 hours come rushing into my head and I groan. What was I thinking starting this whole thing? I was thinking “the world is going to end,” I answer myself. The signs were clear: if we don’t succeed,  _ something _ catastrophic on a global scale is going to happen. I just have no idea what we’re supposed to do to stop it, only that it has to be us.

I sigh and shift in the bucket seat, trying to sit upright. I glance to my left. Agathiel, in the driver’s seat, seems to already be awake. “How’d you sleep?” I ask with a yawn, stretching my arms and back as best I can inside the van.

He glances at me, then looks forward again. “I do not know. I have never done it before, so I have nothing to judge it against, other than Lucas’s memories from when he was alive but they are not quite comparable. I am not sure this body even needs sleep now that I am inhabiting it, though I found it capable when I tried.” He looks thoughtful. “I dreamed, for the first time since I was created. It was an interesting experience.”

“What did you dream about?” I ask, intrigued.

“Paradise. Creating it, living in it, protecting it, fighting for it, being banished from it… The whole saga played itself over again in my mind as I slept. Is that normal, for memories to do that during sleep?”

I shrug. “Man, I don’t think  _ anything  _ is considered ‘normal’ where dreams are concerned. They can be anything, memories or made up, sensical or non. Jocelyn would really be the one to ask.” I yawn again.  _ Wait-- _

“Jocelyn?” Agathiel raises an eyebrow. “Who--”

“Joshua,” I correct myself quickly, knowing that outing someone without their consent is the pinnacle of uncool. “Sorry, my tongue slipped. Just ignore me, I’m still waking up.”

Agathiel looks at me for an uncomfortable moment, then looks away again without comment. I turn around in my seat and look into the back to see how everyone else is doing. Jenny is in her Lupus form -- which is as tiny and frail a wolf as her Homid form is a human -- curled up in Jocelyn’s lap, both still asleep. They’re kind of adorable. Gavin is laid out across the back bench, his cloak draped over him to keep the sun off in case the smoke cleared during the day. That does not look comfortable, but he seems fine with it. Tabitha is nowhere to be seen.

I clap my hands hard, waking everyone with a start. “Rise and shine, people!” I say loudly, making everyone wince as they regain consciousness. “The sun is down, which means we are  _ up! _ Time to go catch us some bad guys!” I turn to Agathiel. “Can you drive?”

He considers for a moment, then nods. “Lucas prefers his motorcycle, but he has driven similar vehicles to this one before. It should not be a problem.”

“Excellent,” I say snapping my fingers at the ignition to turn on the engine. “Get us back to where we left the truck replica and I’ll resume the replay. We can follow it to wherever it goes from there. Tabitha, are you here?” I ask the air.

“I’m here,” she replies, materializing in the far back of the van.

“Good. Then let’s roll.”

We get back to where the truck stopped. I wave my hand and it starts up again, doing a three point turn and heading back down the mountain. We follow it. After a few minutes, I hear movement in the back. I turn to see Jenny making her way to the far back of the van and looking around. “Whatcha lookin’ for?” Gavin asks.

“Food,” she replies. “I’m hungry, and I was kidnapped while my parents were grocery shopping. There should still be groceries in here somewhere, but I can’t find them.”

“Maybe the marauders took them when they ransacked your home,” Tabitha suggests. Jenny looks crestfallen.

“It’s fine, I can get us food.” I say. “How many of us need to eat?” Jenny and Jocelyn both raise their hands.

“I’ll need to drink some blood sometime in the next few days, but I don’t really eat ‘food’,” Gavin says.

I turn to look at Agathiel, who keeps his eyes on the road but says, “I do not know if this body still requires nourishment. Technically, the body is dead, I am merely animating it with my celestial power. I believe it would be capable of eating but I do not think it needs to. At least, not currently. It may eventually, I do not know.”

I nod. “Well, next drive-through we pass I’ll pause the truck so we can get us mortals some food.”

Gavin smirks. “Can’t you just magic up some?”

“Nope,” I say, unabashed. “Food is one thing I can’t create out of nothing. Just a quirk of my magic, I know of other Mages who can do that but I can’t. I have a bank account with a million dollars in it, though, so, that’s  _ like  _ being able to magic up unlimited food.”

We stop at a drive-through and I buy three combo meals, passing them around to the eaters. As we eat our food, Agathiel drives us back to where we left the truck and I start it up again. We spend the next hour or so following the truck replica before it stops in front of the apartment building where Jenny had been taken.

“Guess they went to check on the rest of their crew…” Jocelyn says, sounding worried.

“They might still be there, let’s go get ‘em!” Gavin says, punching his palm. Tabitha looks at him disapprovingly.

“No,” I say, “if they were still here, their truck would still be here, too. The replica hasn’t caught up with the original yet, which means at some point after getting here they left again. We could go up and see if they left any new evidence for us, but they may also have left traps, sooooo, Tabitha!” I turn to our ghost friend. “Would you mind heading up and telling us what you find there? If there are any changes worth investigating let us know and we’ll all go up.” Jocelyn squirms at this but says nothing. Tabitha nods and flies out of the van up to the apartment window.

She comes back a minute later and says, “Everything is gone. The place is clean, like they were never there. No bodies, no blood, no bullet holes, the door is back in its frame like it was never broken.”

“Well,” I say slowly, thinking, “that means they came back here and cleaned up the mess, which means they saw the mess, which means they know their comrades are dead, and if there was anything else for them to learn from the scene they almost certainly have done so. I’m not sure what that would be, but we’d definitely better keep our guard up. At best they’re going to think there are some super-strong werewolves out there that they don’t know about and be extra on their guard. At worst they’ll have figured out exactly who and what we are and what we’re all capable of. Most likely somewhere in between.” I sigh. “That’s probably all we’re getting out of this place. I don’t think there’s any use in going up there, we’d only confirm what Tabitha already told us. Let’s just get back on the road.” I wave my hand and the truck replica begins moving again. Agathiel puts the van in gear and we follow.

The replica truck leads us all the way across town to the outskirts on the other edge, to a small compound that looks like three prefab structures arranged in a semicircle in an otherwise vacant lot. There’s a fire pit in the middle with the remains of a fire still glowing in it. The replica truck drives right up and parks itself inside its real-life counterpart, then dissipates. We’re here.

“Should we have brought, like, guns or something?” Jocelyn asks nervously.

“Nah,” I say, clacking the Spiritual Energy Focusing gems on the backs of my gloves against each other. “We’re more than enough weapon for this job. Look alive, people, this could get interesting!” Gavin makes a sound like he was going to make a comment but decided against it. I smirk, open the door, and hop out of the van. The rest of the group follows. “We know they can see Tabitha but she’s still the least visible of all of us, and definitely the quietest. Tabitha? Why don’t you scout ahead, see if you can find us a way in that won’t get us spotted.” She nods and flies ahead, floating up above the leftmost structure, and peeks into the top of it. She repeats the process in a few different spots, then again on the other structures, then comes back.

“Two of them are holed up in the central structure, a woman guarding the entrance and a man deeper in. There is no sign of the other two.”

“ _ That’s because we’re right here! _ ” a gruff voice yells, and suddenly there’s a massive pain in my jaw and gravity is pointing the wrong way. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings. I’m on the ground, several feet from where I was just standing, with a broken jaw.  _ Damn  _ that smarts. I run my hand over the break, knitting the bones back together, as I look up to see what the hell just happened. Two guys in camo gear are standing next to the rest of my team, one of them big and bulky and having apparently just punched me, the other thin and lithe and tossing a grenade to himself in one hand. They both have menacing grins on their faces. I glance back at the compound. If half of us keep these guys distracted, the other half may have a chance to take out the two in the building before these two alert them. 

“Agathiel! Joshua! Tabitha!” I yell, making a split second decision. “Take care of these guys then meet us inside! We’ll take care of the others! Jenny, Gavin, with me!” I get up and run toward the central structure without looking back. I hear the sounds of a fight starting, but Agathiel and Tabitha can’t take physical damage and Joshua can put people to sleep with a touch. They’ll be fine.

Gavin and Jenny and I run into the building and immediately find ourselves face to face with a woman wearing the same camo gear as the others, with long black hair framing her face. I hold out a hand to cast a spell, and she waves her hand at me in return.


	8. The Silver Hand (Gavin)

I look over at Cal, confused as to why the magic hasn’t happened yet. He’s standing stock still, his hand out, his jaw clenched, his eyes wide. Jenny gasps. “Cal! You’re  _ covered _ in Weaver spirits!”

“Yes,  _ thank you, _ Jenny,” Cal says testily through gritted teeth, “I am  _ acutely _ aware of the situation.”

“What situation?” I ask, looking back and forth between Jenny and Cal. “What are ‘Weaver spirits’?”

“She means the paradox spiders,” Cal explains, apparently incapable of not showing off magic knowledge even in a dire situation like this one. “They’re the enforcers of consensus, the ones who bite when I do magic in front of nonbelievers. Somehow this woman has convinced them that I just cast a major spell in front of a huge crowd or something, they’re agitated and on high alert and if I do any magic at all…” His voice catches in his throat, then he continues. “Best case scenario, they eat the spell and it just doesn’t work and nothing happens. Worst case scenario, I explode.”

“ _ Explode!?” _ I shout.

“So you can see. Why I’m being _very_ _careful_. Not to do any magic.” Cal says slowly and deliberately.

I can definitely see his point. I turn to the witch woman, cracking my knuckles. “Guess it’s up to me then.”

“Ah, you must be the vampire,” she says knowingly, looking me up and down. “We knew there’d be one of you when we saw the bite out of Jessica’s neck.”

“What of it?” I scoff.

“I’ve got something special cooked up just for you.” She raises her hand, which is holding something cylindrical in it, and there’s a click. A flashlight shines on my face. I squint.

“Really? Is that all you’ve--”

She snaps her fingers and instantly a searing pain shoots across every inch of my exposed skin. With a scream of pain, I throw myself backward onto the ground and roll over, pulling my hood over the back of my head. Smoke rises from my face and hands.

What the shitting fuck!? That burned like real sunlight! That’s not supposed to be possible! Fuck fuck shit  _ fuck! _

“Aw, whassamatter?” She croons. “Afraid of the light?”

“Fuck you, bitch!” I yell, trying to keep the terror out of my voice and failing miserably. I hear a thunderous growl to my left, and figure that means Jenny’s taken her war form. That’s a terrible idea; Jenny’s in worse danger here than I am, the bitch has  _ silver grenades _ for fuck’s sake! “Jenny, don’t!” I yell.

“I think that’s quite enough,” says a familiar, haunting, echoey voice.

“What the--!” the woman shouts, then makes a strange gurgling noise.

I look up to see the witch woman strangling herself, her flashlight dropped to the floor. I’m transfixed by the image; I know I should be helping but I can’t make myself move. A few seconds later, the witch woman falls to the ground unconscious, and my mom rises out of her fallen body. “That’s better,” she says, as though she had just put a child down for a nap.

“We have to kill her,” a voice says. I can hardly believe it, but it sounded like it was Cal. I look over in surprise, and he continues, still standing perfectly still. “We can’t contain her, her magic is too strong. If we tried to tie her up and question her she could kill us all. She’ll never undo the enchantment she put on me willingly, the only way to end it is to end  _ her _ . If we don’t, the next time I do magic -- which I have a tendency to do by instinct, unintentionally, you understand -- I could die, and take anyone standing nearby with me. We can’t let that happen. Gavin, drain her.”

“No!” Mom shouts, horror struck. “Let me do it! Or someone else, anyone but Gavin!”

“It’s fine, Mom. It’s for a good cause. I promise not to make a habit of it.” And with that, I snap the woman’s head back and start drinking.

Cal looks at Tabitha. “I assume because you’re here that the other two are dealt with?”

She nods. “They were strong, but only strong. That was not enough. Agathiel tore the big one limb from limb while I held the nimble one still long enough for Joshua to put him to sleep. He is questioning him in the dream world now.”

“They call themselves ‘The Silver Hand’,” Joshua says from behind us. I turn to look. He and Agathiel are coming into the building, Agathiel carrying the unconscious Silver Hand member. Joshua continues, “They fancy themselves werewolf hunters, they’ve only been a thing for a month, they spotted Jenny in the parking lot by chance and decided to take the opportunity to wipe out her tribe. They held her captive in case any of her family escaped, so they could ambush them later. Their goal is to wipe all werewolves off the face of the Earth. They are  _ not  _ nice people,” he concludes.

I lift my head from the now dead woman’s throat, licking blood off my lips. “Did he say where they got magic from?”

Joshua shakes his head. “He has no idea. One day they just got ‘superpowers’, as he puts it, including the ability to see ‘monsters’ -- again, his words -- for what they really are. He called that power ‘the sight’. Real whackjob, this guy.”

Agathiel drops him on the floor unceremoniously next to the dead woman. Cal pulls some rope out of nowhere -- apparently free of the paradox spiders now that the witch woman is dead -- and begins tying him up. “Good job, guys,” he says. “Three down, one to go.” We all look at the door to the back room where the last one, presumably the leader, is holed up and waiting for us.


	9. Malakh (Agathiel)

I look at the door through which our final adversary lies. I hope this will not end in another fight, but I do not see another likely outcome. I am not enjoying this return to savagery, I did not like who I was in the War and I do not wish to become that way again. But that seems to be life on Earth now, constant conflict and struggle to survive, where the strong prey on the weak unless the stronger intervene. I do not like it, but I do not have many other options. Ignoring it would not stop it from being true. Only by participating in it can I hope to make a difference. I sigh internally, looking at the unconscious and dead bodies on the floor. If we had not stopped them, they would have killed many more. Small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

Cal takes the lead as we head into the next room. There is a man standing on a raised dais at the center of the room, holding a machine gun in one hand and a grenade in the other. He looks over all of us with mild interest and says, “Remind me to fire my guards. Good help is so hard to find these days.”

“Knock knock!” Cal says with a grin. “We’re ho-ome!”

“So you’re the witch who’s been screwing up our plans,” the man says, pointing the machine gun at Cal. “I oughta mow you down just for that, but I’mma give you a chance to explain yourself. Why are you killing us?”

“The goal is not to kill you,” Cal says. “The goal is to stop you from killing others. If death is the only or best way to make that happen, so be it.”

Something about the man seems familiar to me. I frown. Did Lucas know him? I start sifting through Lucas’s memories trying to find this man’s face in them anywhere.

“I never killed anybody,” the man says with a smirk. “Just mangy mongrels who aren’t even really people. Can’t call them ‘anybody’. Now what’s your problem with that? You a werewolf lover or somethin’?”

Suddenly, I realize what seems familiar about him. It has nothing to do with his body, it is his soul.

“Malakh? Is that you?” I ask in recognition.

The Silver Hand leader looks interestedly at me for a few moments, then his eyes widen in surprise. “Agathiel! Damn is it good to see you again! Come on, help me torch these losers then we can grab a beer and catch up.”

Cal mouths at me, “Demon?” and I give a subtle nod in return. He backs off, letting me take the lead.

“What happened to you, Malakh? How did you end up in  _ this  _ of all bodies? Last time I saw you we were fighting through the Maelstrom together.”

Malakh nods. “Yeah, then I got torn away by it, tossed like a dust mote in a hurricane. Turns out time is weird in the Maelstrom; even though we all entered it at the same time from our perspective, we exited it days or weeks apart. I know Pyrrha and Raviel came out before I did, but I haven’t seen them. You’re the only other of us I’ve run across so far. How long have you been here? Have you seen any others?”

“Barely more than a day, and no, you are the first I have found as well,” I answer, trying to keep Malakh talking. He always did relish a good speech. “But you were telling me how you ended up in this body?”

“Oh right, that. Well, about a month ago a bunch of werewolves attacked a group of people on campus. Most of them ran like scared sheep, not understanding what the hell was going on, but a few of us saw the monsters for what they really were and fought back, and in fighting found we had the power to do so. Some of us had super strength, some of us had magic, but all of us had the power to resist the monsters we suddenly knew were real. Despite this newfound power, the werewolves still managed to kill one of us before being driven off. That’s the one I wound up in. I sensed his spirit fading, I assume the same way you did with your body, and was drawn into the gap the soul left as it departed. And just like that, I found myself leader of a group of superpowered humans with newfound knowledge -- and hatred -- of werewolves.  _ Werewolves _ , Agathiel! What the hell kind of planet have we come back to where humans are cursed by wolf spirits!?”

I take a small step forward and ask, “What do you mean by ‘superpowered’? What caused this?”

Malakh shrugs. “Like I said, some got super strength, some got magic. It was different for everybody: one guy could punch through a brick wall, another could jump really high, the magic guys were different too but they’d have to be the ones to explain how. Each person got an instinctive understanding of their new powers and how to use them, but none of us have any idea where they came from. The one power everyone got is to see monsters for what they really are. That’s how we recognized the werewolves. After Frank died and I possessed his body I didn’t get to keep any of his superpowers, but I brought enough of my own that that didn’t matter. Of course, the others saw my demony self right away the same way they saw the werewolves. I managed to convince them I was alright, though, mostly by promising to help them kill more werewolves. Until you guys showed up, we all thought demons and werewolves were the extent of it.” He looks around at our group. “But clearly there’s more monsters than just those two types. We may have to expand our strategy after this.”

I do not tell him he does not have a crew to strategize with anymore. I take another small step forward and ask, still just trying to keep him talking, “Was it you who cast the enchantment over the apartment masking it to human eyes?”

Malakh shakes his head. “Nah, that was Jericho, the one whose head you took off. I assume that was you? Now that I know you’re involved, it seems like your style. I remember lots of fallen heads back in the War. Ahhh, those were the days.” He smiles and gazes at the ceiling, seemingly reminiscing fondly over atrocities we committed. He looks back at me. “Jericho was one of the ones who got magic from the imbuing -- that’s what we took to calling it when we got our new powers -- and he used it to mask our hideouts so the cops couldn’t track us. Helena used her magic to transmute a  _ shit ton _ of rusty old iron -- she ran a junkyard before the imbuing -- into shiny new silver, most of which we sold for cash and the rest we turned into weapons. These mangy mutts are strong, but they sure die easy with silver tearing up their heart and lungs!” He laughs an ugly, hateful laugh. Jenny’s rage is palpable.

I take another step forward. He is almost within arm’s reach. “Why are you doing this?”

He stops laughing and his face hardens. “Fuck’s sake, Agathiel, look around you! We fought Heaven and Earth and the Almighty Himself and broke out of Hell for  _ this!? _ This is  _ not _ the Paradise we left behind! Soulless slabs of steel and concrete piercing the sky like parodies of Babel, humans slaughtering each other on the streets and I’m not even just talking about the wolf-cursed ones. This world is a fucking nightmare!” He hefts his machine gun over his shoulder. “So if I’m gonna have to live in a nightmare, I’m gonna live as the worst fucking nightmare I can be. I learned in the War what I can do when I set my mind to destruction and mayhem. We’re literally-God-damned  _ demons _ , Agathiel, and once I’m done wiping the wolf-mongrels off the face of the Earth I’m bringing hell to the rest of the human race, one monster at a time.” He grins wickedly. “Come on, do it with me. We’ll be the gods of a new Paradise with a  _ lot _ of Hell mixed in for good measure. It’s what we’re best at.”

“Is that what you think, Malakh?” I ask in astonishment, stepping forward again. “That we are the destroyers and corrupters that man’s myths make us out to be? Have you really fallen so far? No, Malakh. Regardless of the actions we took during the War, regardless of how far the Fall took us from our true purpose, regardless of what Heaven and Earth now call us, we are not demons, and we are definitely not gods. We are  _ angels _ , Malakh, made above all else for creation and love. We are the protectors of Earth and mankind, and I will stand by humanity despite their faults -- even those corrupted by sin or curse -- because I love them. This is why I stood with Lucifer in the first place, and it is where I stand now.”

Malakh lowers his machine gun and points it at me, the barrel inches from my face. “That sounds like you’re standing in my way, old friend. That is not a safe place to stand.”

I take one more step forward, and then we are on each other. How can I describe our battle? We are like two songs fighting for the attention of one eardrum. We are like hurricane winds fighting a tidal wave. We are like a particle and its antiparticle colliding. Our human bodies are meaningless, irrelevant dead husks discarded almost immediately. This is a fight between creators of the universe, and the laws of physics and metaphysics are our weapons as much as our medium. I do not know what this looks like to those observing it. Most of the fight I think cannot be observed. Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle applies to angels as much as to electrons. The fight, though nigh indescribable, is not lengthy, and in the end, I am the victor. Though he is the stronger and of the higher House, I have righteousness on my side. He has abandoned his true purpose, while I am fighting to keep mine. I am fighting to protect humanity as I was designed to do, he is fighting only to destroy, and creators do not make good destroyers.

I return to my body -- Lucas’s body -- as the roar of battle fades. I rise to my feet. Malakh does not. I look at his crumpled corpse with a mixture of contempt and deep, deep sorrow. “I have not destroyed one of my brethren since the War,” I say slowly, contemplatively, to no one in particular. “It is not an act I had wished ever to repeat. And yet, it was necessary. He had set himself on a path that he could not be allowed to continue. He had to be stopped.” With surprise, I notice a tear sliding down Lucas’s cheek. I wipe it away, suddenly aware of the others watching me.

“Yeah, so, that was really impressive and all,” Gavin speaks out, his sarcasm jarring against the gravity of the moment, “but now Jenny doesn’t get to get her revenge.”

I turn to look at Jenny, who does indeed look somewhat indignant. I walk over to her and take a knee so we are eye to eye. “I will not apologize for taking this from you, young one. It would only have meant your death. Formidable as I am sure you are, an angel like Malakh has nothing to fear from a werewolf, and he had a machine gun full of silver bullets. You would have had no chance. And in the end, vengeance is not worth the damage it does to your soul. You are better off without it.”

“Served  _ me _ pretty well,” Gavin mutters just loud enough for Jenny and me to hear. I ignore him. Jenny looks furious, but just stamps her foot and pouts.

“So!” Cal claps his hands and rubs them together. “Looks like this Malakh guy was going to try to destroy all humanity, aaaand we stopped him! Awesome! High fives all around!”

The others exchange cheers but I do not feel much like celebrating. I notice Cal take out a deck of playing cards and start dealing into the air. After the ninth card, his smile vanishes.

“Wait, hold on, scratch that.” Everyone stops cheering. “The future hasn’t changed. As bad as that guy was, apparently he wasn’t The Big Bad. Which means we’re not done yet. So.” He claps his hands and the cards disappear. “What did we learn today? The Silver Hand were led by a demon, but more importantly, someone or something out there is imbuing humans with superpowers and the ability to see through the Veil. More than just through the Veil, the ability to see the true shape of things even when they are magically hidden. I mean, they haven't done anything that couldn’t be done by a Mage, but Mages have to work and study to develop those kinds of powers, this ‘imbuing’ is something I've never heard of before. We know it happened to the Silver Hand a month ago; since the future hasn’t changed, most likely it has happened to others as well, or else it  _ will _ happen to others later, but we can say at the very least that seven people were imbued a month ago. I think our next step should be going back to where they were imbued and checking magical energies there to see if whatever happened left any residue, or evidence of any kind, of what happened. Joshua, did you get a location out of the one you questioned?”

“No, but I can, he’s still just in the other room,” he says, heading for the door. “It’ll only take me a minute or so.”

“Great, you do that, the rest of us will tear this place apart looking for anything useful we can take -- or more importantly, learn -- from what the Silver Hand left behind. Aaaaaand,  _ go! _ ”


	10. Dreams (Jocelyn)

It’s just after sundown on Monday evening on the U of A campus. The courtyard is full of people milling about as classes just got out and people are headed to dorms or the food court for dinner. I live off campus so I’m headed for my truck. Suddenly, I hear a scream. I look around, trying to see the source. The scream is followed by more screams. People are starting to panic, to run in all directions. Finally, I see the source of the commotion. I see it, but I don’t believe it.  _ Monsters. _ It has to be a prank, a hoax, somebody’s idea of a joke. But there’s blood everywhere and those fangs don’t look fake. I know, somehow I just  _ know _ in my gut, that this is a real-life werewolf. Werewolves are real, and they are here, attacking people. Is tonight the full moon? I guess it must be. Shit, that one’s coming right for me! I leap out of the way, and find myself 20 feet in the air. My eyes widen with shock. Instinctively I land in an alert crouch, unharmed. What the fuck is going on? The beast looks as surprised as I am. It comes for me again and I dive out of the way again. My reflexes and agility have been cranked up to 11 somehow. I hear a howl of pain, and see one of the monsters running away, dripping blood. Its own blood? God I hope so.

“Here, catch!” someone yells, and throws something shiny at me. Before today I would never have been able to catch it but my hand finds it in the air as though this were the most natural thing in the world. “Drive it home!” the voice yells at me, strong and female and not at all panicky. I look at the thing in my hand. It’s a Swiss Army Knife, but all the metal parts are silver instead of steel. Without time to think about it, I duck around and under the beast’s claws and fangs and drive the blade up into its neck. I don’t have a lot of strength behind the thrust, but the blade is sharp enough and silver enough that it doesn’t take much to pierce its hide. The beast howls and staggers back, alarmed. It turns and starts loping away. I could probably keep up with it if I wanted to chase it down but with only a little knife I’m satisfied just to see it go.

I look around, trying to see if there are more of them. I see one big beefy guy locked in what looks like a wrestling hold with one of the beasts. I see a guy I know, Frank -- we have a physics class together -- shooting what look like rays of sunlight out of his hands at another one. Smoke rises from its fur wherever the beams hit it. But it dodges through the assault and gets its mouth around Frank’s throat. There’s no way he survives. I dash over and drive the silver knife into one of the smoking spots on the beast’s hide. It lets go of Frank’s throat and howls in pain. It turns on me, but I’m too quick for it. I dodge its claws and teeth, striking with the knife whenever I can. I see in its eyes the dawning comprehension that I am hurting it but I’m too fast for it to hurt me. It turns and runs away. I look at the one that was locked in a wrestling hold with the big guy, and see that a couple of other people have joined him to gang up on it. As I’m watching, there’s a flash of some kind of light, and the thing goes limp in the big guy’s arms. I can tell that it’s dead.

The rest of the crowd is gone. Campus police will be here soon, but for now it’s just us: we six -- seven including Frank -- who fought back. The big guy hefts the beast’s corpse -- which looks like an ordinary wolf now -- onto his shoulder and says, “We need to move before the cops get here.”

“I have a truck,” I say, and we turn to head there, when Frank’s body moves. We look over at it in unison. I can tell -- I don’t know how but I can just  _ tell _ \-- that that’s not Frank. Something else is taking over his body. I grip the silver knife tightly in my hand.

The thing that isn’t Frank rises to its feet and walks over to us. “What the fuck was that, right?” he says, laughing with shock. “So I guess werewolves are real. Who knew?”

I glare at him. “What are you and what have you done with Frank?”

The thing wearing Frank’s face looks at me, offended. “Frank is right here. I have his mind, his body, his memories. Isn’t that enough?”

“What  _ are _ you?” I repeat, less patiently.

“I was an angel,” it says. “I was called Malakh. I had a purpose in coming back here, but now that I’ve merged with Frank that doesn’t seem so important anymore. What seems important now is that werewolves are real, and we need to correct that.”

The others are nodding. I can’t say I disagree either. “Okay, well, what do you propose?”

“That we work together. Other people, they won’t understand, you saw how they ran in panic. Either they won’t believe it really was werewolves or they’ll think we just need to run and hide from them. But us… We’ve been  _ chosen _ . Something gave us the ability to fight these monsters, and we have an obligation to put those abilities to use. Not  _ one _ werewolf survives. Not.  _ One. _ This is our pledge. Are you with me?”

Everyone is nodding more emphatically now. I still get the heebie-jeebies from not-Frank, but I can’t deny he’s talking sense. I nod, too. I look down at my hand with the silver knife in it. Some of the silver has rubbed off, giving my palm and fingers a silver sheen. “The Silver Hand,” I say, looking up. “That’s who we are. That’s what we’ll be.”

Not-Frank’s face splits with a grin. “I like it,” he says, and the others nod in agreement.

* * *

I pull out of the memory back into the Dreaming. Man, they were like a real superhero team, I think to myself. Except with genocide instead of justice.

I take one last look around this guy’s Dream world. It looks like a couple of Manhattans stacked on top of each other. I guess if you  _ really _ like big cities you might enjoy it here, but that is very much not me. I already ravaged him for Glamour when I questioned him the first time, so there’s no reason to stick around any longer. I slide out of the Dreaming and back into the Autumn World.

* * *

We spend the rest of the night exploring the Silver Hand’s compound, gathering supplies -- we found Jenny’s groceries, which was mostly canned chilli and spam (I guess werewolves aren't big on vegetables, or refrigerators) -- and looking for clues. We learn basically nothing that we didn’t already know, and all we find other than food is cash, gasoline, and weapons, none of which really does us any good since Cal’s a millionaire. All in all it’s a disappointing evening.

As sunrise approaches, we all get back in the van and drive off to find a good place to park and get a good day’s sleep. (We don’t want to stay there in case the guy we left unconscious wakes up and comes after us.) As everyone is starting to drift off, I look at Agathiel (or rather, the back of Agathiel’s head). He seemed to take that fight with Malakh really hard. I feel like he deserves a really good dream after that. I lean forward and touch the back of his head, pulling him and myself into the Dreaming.

* * *

Agathiel and I are standing on an open plain, soft springy grasses blowing in the heady breeze as far as the eye can see in every direction.

Agathiel turns to look at me, surprise on his face. “What are  _ you? _ ” he asks curiously.

“I am a Satyr,” I say with a playful smile. “And I’m here to help you have a  _ really _ good dream.”

He looks clueless. I fill the air with the smell of rose petals and wine and give him a seductive grin. He sniffs the air and raises an eyebrow. “I do not understand.”

I sigh. Guess we’re going with the direct approach. I pull my shirt off and cast it aside, exposing my breasts. He still just looks confused.

“ _ SEX!” _ I yell, exasperated.

“Oh!” Comprehension finally dawns on his face. “No thank you,” he says politely, and turns away.

I goggle at him. This is  _ not  _ the reaction a Satyr is accustomed to. I run around him so we’re face to face again. “What do you mean, ‘No thank you’!? Am I not good enough for you? Are you  _ gay? _ …Not that I would have a problem with that,” I backpedal furiously.

He doesn’t look offended, just thoughtful. “I believe Lucas would in fact prefer a masculine partner, but me, I am an angel. I was not created as a sexual being. Angels are capable of reproduction with humans, as the disaster that was the Nephilim demonstrated, and I suppose it would probably be possible with Satyrs as well, but, I do not desire it. I do not expect I would enjoy it. It strikes me as very messy.” He looks thoughtful. “Maybe, with a male partner, I could immerse myself so thoroughly into Lucas’s mind that his desires and pleasures would take over, and I would enjoy it, but I would not want to do that. I do not want to lose my sense of where Lucas ends and Agathiel begins.”

I stand there, dumbfounded. “Well, okay,” I scramble to salvage the situation. “If that’s not what you want, what  _ do  _ you want? What would be your best dream ever?”

He pauses contemplatively, gazing at the horizon. “I do not know. This is only the second dream I have ever had. There are things I want in reality, but I do not think I would be satisfied seeing them come to pass in a dream. I would know they are not real.”

“Okay,” I say, thinking frantically. “Okay,” I say again, “I guess I’ll just, leave you to it, then?” A thought occurs to me. “Would you prefer to have no dreams? To have a dreamless sleep?”

“No,” he says calmly. “Thank you, but I am interested to see what my mind does with this concept of dreaming. Last time it showed me a cavalcade of memories. I am intrigued by what it may show me this time.” He turns to look at me. “What is your name?”

I hesitate for a moment, considering revealing myself as Joshua, but instead I just say, “Jocelyn.”

“Well Jocelyn, thank you for the kind attempt to give me a pleasant experience. I hope you have pleasant dreams yourself.” He then turns back and starts walking away toward the horizon. I pull out, leaving him to his own dreams.

* * *

I’m back in the van. I pull my hand away from Agathiel’s head and look around, hoping nobody noticed that. Everyone else appears to already be asleep. I lean back, rest my head, and drift off into the Dreaming.


	11. Investigation (Tabitha)

We are all awakened by the sound of a cell phone ringing. I withdraw from Gavin, sliding down through the seat so that nobody will notice me doing so. Some ghosts have inanimate fetters like trinkets or even buildings that are far less awkward to slumber in, but my only fetter is my son.

Joshua answers his cell phone groggily. “Hello? … Yeah mom. … I’m fine, mom. … No, mom. … Yes ma’am, right away. I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up and puts his phone away. “Well, my mom’s pissed and I need to go home. I’ve been gone for two days without calling or texting, that was bound to come back to bite me.”

Cal looks worried. “Do you need us to give you a cover story, or…?”

“Nah,” Joshua does not look worried. “I can just mess with her memories. It’ll be fine. I’ll get yelled at for a few minutes but then I’ll make her forget it ever happened. Not the first time I’ve had to do that.”

I can’t say I approve of this even a little bit, but I keep silent. If it’s true that we need Joshua to help us save the world, I am not sure of a better way to accomplish this. It’s not the kind of thing we could properly request permission for thanks to the Veil.

“Well…” Cal says slowly. “I guess we’re taking you home then?”

“No, you know what? You guys go on without me,” Joshua says. “Don’t waste the night on my account, you’ve got investigating to do. It’s still early, I’ll take the bus home. You can pick me up again sometime later.”

Cal looks concerned, but gives in to Joshua’s lack of worry. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Joshua nods. “It’ll be fine, I promise. I assume you know where to find me since you knew where to send the note?” Cal nods. “Cool, then I’ll see you all later. Oh wait! Here.” Joshua leans forward and flicks Cal on the forehead.

“Ow!” Cal rubs the spot Joshua flicked, then understanding dawns on his face.

“Now you know where to go,” Joshua says, opening the van door. “Bye!” And with that he hops out of the van and starts walking, I assume toward the nearest bus stop. Agathiel puts the van in gear and starts driving toward the University campus.

We find a place to park and get out of the van, following Cal toward the location Joshua apparently implanted in his mind. When we get there, we find it’s a courtyard with a small raised platform at one end of it that is currently serving as a stage for what I assume is a local band, probably made of university students. There is a drummer, who I initially think is playing a particularly intense solo but after a time it becomes clear that is just how he plays. There is a singer, who is not so much singing as yelling loudly into a microphone. There is a guitarist who seems completely unaware that he is not alone on the stage. And there are three bass players causing thunderous noise to boom out over the crowd through the massive speakers.

This is probably the worst band I have ever heard, in life or in death. I hesitate to even call it music. But then, I haven't liked any new music since 1897, so maybe this is just what people listen to these days. I doubt it though; the crowd doesn’t seem very enthusiastic, and I think they are mostly here for the spectacle.

Cal stops at the edge of the courtyard, scanning the crowd with a frown. “I didn’t expect there to be a crowd. Though I suppose I should have, it was crowded in the memory Joshua gave me. This is going to make our job a lot more difficult. I can’t do noticeable magic with this many non-magical people around, that much paradox bite could kill me, but I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to read the magical energies to look for clues.” He turns to look at the rest of us. “Any ideas?”

“I could possess one of the band members or their equipment,” I suggest. “Cause an unpleasant noise to drive the people away. Although, if this ‘music’ isn’t doing that already I don’t know how much worse I could do…”

“Bands sometimes have light shows, right?” Jenny asks. “Could you disguise the magic as a light show?”

Cal looks thoughtful. “That might be our best bet. It might not fool the band, since they will know they didn’t plan a light show, but hopefully they’ll think of some mundane explanation for it rather than assuming it’s magic. The Veil is often my best defense against paradox.”

Those of us with bodies make their way into the crowd and start mingling, following Cal as he works his way to the spot shown in the dream, while I float up above the crowd to keep an eye on the surroundings.

Suddenly, pain wracks my entire being. It is like fire and ice and lightning coursing through every fiber of my soul. I see jagged lines of orange light dancing in front of me and all around me, and I feel a horrible sucking sensation as though I am once again affected by gravity. It pulls me down, down, slowly and inexorably toward a single point on the ground just beyond the crowd.

“Don’t worry everyone, no need to panic!” A voice yells from the source of the orange beams of light. “We’ve got it now, it’ll be out of your hair in a minute! Everything is fine!”

I look around desperately, meaning to plead for help, but all I can do is scream.

And then something closes around me, and all is blackness.


	12. Ghostbusters (Jenny, a few moments earlier)

We make our way into the crowd, trying not to bump into people or draw attention to ourselves. Cal seems to know where he needs to go so the rest of us are following him. I’ve never been this deep into the city before, and never without my parents. I’ve never seen this many people all in one place, especially not domestics. It’s scary, but if I stick to my new pack I should be safe. I wish Jocelyn were here, she’s my favorite.

Suddenly there’s a flash of orange to my left. Everybody turns to look, and it looks like two guys have lashed Tabitha in bolts of orange lightning coming out of some weird machines strapped to their backs. She’s invisible, but her outline is discernible where the orange lightning is surrounding her. She starts getting dragged down and back along the bolts of lightning toward the guys with the machines.

“Don’t worry everyone, no need to panic!” One of them yells. “We’ve got it now, it’ll be out of your hair in a minute! Everything is fine!”

Tabitha starts to scream as she is pulled down past the top of people’s heads and out of sight. I start trying to push through the crowd to where she disappeared but somebody holds me back. I look up. Agathiel looks at me with concern and shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says quietly. “We will all help Tabitha together once we understand what is going on. No sense rushing in without knowing what we are dealing with, we would only get ourselves and everyone else hurt.”

The band has stopped playing and everyone is looking at the two people with the machines on their backs. I can’t get a good look at them, only catching occasional glimpses of them as the crowd shifts around. The band singer yells into his microphone, “Dude, they’re like the Ghostbusters!”

Somebody in the crowd yells, “Like the cartoon?”

“No, you idiot, like the movie!” the singer responds.

We start trying to push our way forward through the crowd together to get a better view of what’s going on, but everyone else in the crowd is also trying to do the same thing so we don’t make much headway. Gavin grumbles something under his breath, folds his arms in front of his chest, and suddenly I don't know where he is. 

A few moments later, a gasp rings out from the front of the crowd while one of the guys who attacked Tabitha yells, “Hey! Get off!” I stand up on tiptoes trying to see through the crowd, and catch a glimpse of Gavin standing behind one of the guys, an arm wrapped around his neck with claw-like nails digging into his throat, tiny drops of blood beading at the points of contact.

“I’m only going to ask this once,” Gavin says threateningly. “What did you do to my mom?”

“Hey man, show a little gratitude! We just saved your life from a  _ spooky ghost!” _ He tries to pull Gavin’s hand away from his neck, to no avail.

The other guy turns his machine on Gavin, saying, “I don’t know what these do to humans, but… hey… hey wait, you’re not human! What the hell!?”

Fed up with not being able to see what’s going on, I shift into Crinos form and roar, “ _ EVERYBODY RUN! _ ” There is a chorus of screams from the domestics and a massive stampede, and suddenly the courtyard is much much emptier. I step purposefully toward the two machine guys and see a third machine sitting on the ground in front of them, humming and blinking. I snarl, and the second guy turns to the one Gavin is holding and slaps him.

“Why didn’t you tell me there were vampires and werewolves!?” he yells indignantly.

“Because I didn’t know!” he slaps him back. “Why are you hitting me for?”

They start yelling back and forth and slapping each other, which would be hilarious if not for the fact that they may have just killed Tabitha.

I reach out with a clawed hand and grab the second one by the throat. “You do realize we could kill you right now?” I growl.

They glance at each other, fear dawning on their faces for the first time, then nod.

“Good,” Gavin says, retaking control of the situation. “Now, you guys just did something to a ghost. That was  _ our _ ghost, and you’re going to give her back, or things are going to get very unpleasant for you.”

“Just… push the button on the box…” the second one says in a strained voice.

I glance down at the third machine, and it does indeed have a button on it. Agathiel leans down and pushes it. A flap pops open and Tabitha slides out of it, looking not at all well.

She glares at the two guys we are holding. “What the  _ hell _ was that for!?” she yells at them in her haunting, echoey voice. They look at her with a mix of fear, anger, and disgust.

“You were haunting the school. We were going to stop you. That’s what we do, we stop ghosts from messing with people!”

“But I wasn’t even doing anything, I was just floating there!”

“You  _ would _ have done something if we hadn’t stopped you!” There is not a drop of doubt in his voice.

I turn to look at Cal. “Can I eat him now?”

Cal chuckles. “No, Jenny. We need to find out what their equipment is, how it works, and where they got it. This looks like magitech, but Technomancers wouldn’t go around shouting about ghosts in public; the Technocracy is all about keeping consensus nice and mundane and maintaining the Veil. Plus, these guys are too dumb for true technomancy. So the question is,” he turns to look at them, “What is this stuff and where did you get it?”

We look at the two guys expectantly. They glance at each other, then the first one says, “We built them. I dunno how, the blueprints just kinda showed up in our brains one day, both of us. We saw a ghost possess one of the janitors and, I dunno, somehow we both knew what it was and what it was doing, and the thought occurred to us at the same time of how we could stop it. We ran to the science lab and put these together. I don’t really know how they work, they just kinda… do. I guess they’re probably magic; if ghosts and werewolves and vampires are real then I guess so is magic, huh?” He looks at Cal more closely. “You seem like you’re probably magic.”

“God dammit,” Cal sighs, frustrated. “They’re more of whatever the Silver Hand were. Only they were after ghosts instead of werewolves.”

“I mean, we  _ would _ have gone after werewolves if we knew they were real,” the second one says, glaring at me. “But all we saw until today were ghosts.”

“How long ago did you build these machines?” Cal asks.

“Like, three weeks ago?” The second one looks questioningly at the first one, who nods.

“And how many ghosts have you captured during that time?”

“Two,” the first one says proudly. “That one was going to be our third.”

“Okay.” Cal leans back and takes a deep breath, then touches each of them on the forehead. A green rune appears glowing on the spot where he touched for a few moments before fading away. The looks on their faces says they saw this happen on each other. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to release the two ghosts you have captured. You’re going to apologize to them and allow them to go back to their unlives. Then, you are going to destroy your machines, and you are not going to make new ones. Ghosts have just as much right to exist as you do. If you do not do these things, I will know, and we will come back for you, and you will not enjoy that. If you  _ do _ do these things, your reward is to never see or hear from us again. Does that sound good?”

They both nod vigorously.

“Good.” Cal smiles. “Gavin, Jenny, let them go.”

We do. They rub their necks uncomfortably, looking around at us.

“Well, go on then. You have work to do,” Cal says, waving them off. They take a few slow steps backward, then turn and run. Cal laughs, then stops abruptly and looks thoughtful.

“More people imbued with the power to see the unseeable, and to fight it. I don’t like this, not one bit. It seems to happen when they come into contact with something that lives behind the Veil, and they seem to be imbued with abilities tailored toward fighting whatever it is they saw: transmuting silver for fighting werewolves, designing magitech that traps ghosts.” At this he picks up the empty box left on the ground. “Fortunately they left this behind, which should make a great arcane focus for tracking its source. Let me see here…” He takes it to the center of the courtyard and sets it on the ground, then starts waving his hands over it. Strange runic designs start appearing on the ground around it, crisscrossing lines and symbols in an intricate design that I assume means something to Cal. After a few minutes of this, he claps his hands and throws them up toward the sky, and a globe appears floating in the air above the box. Little red points of light are scattered all over it, not just in Tucson but all over the world, thousands and thousands of them. One dot is much bigger than the others, located to the north and west of Tucson. Cal grins.

“Well gang, looks like we’re going to Vegas.”


	13. Agathiel's Tale (Cal)

“Rrrrrroad trip!” Jenny trills excitedly.

I can’t help but smile. “Road trip indeed. Let’s go get Joshua and we can be on our way.”

Less than an hour later we’re at Jocelyn’s place. I send a playing card up through her window with a note saying to meet us outside. A few minutes later, she does so.

“All right, where are we headed now?” she asks.

“Las Vegas!” I say with a flourish. Jocelyn laughs.

“Just like Desert Bus!” she says. I don’t know what she means. I glance around the van; everyone else seems confused, too.

“You know, the fundraiser? Online?” she continues. “They do it every November. They just finished the sixth one a couple weeks ago. They’ve raised over a million dollars for charity. Am I really the only one who’s seen it?”

“I think you’re the only one of us who’s used a computer,” Gavin says with a smirk.

“Hey, I’ve used a computer!” I say indignantly. “I even started using the Twitter after someone made a fake account pretending to be me after I won America’s Got Talent.”

“It’s not ‘the Twitter’, it’s just ‘Twitter’,” Jocelyn says, stifling a giggle.

“Dude, whatever,” Gavin says dismissively, “the point is, no, none of us know what Desert Thing is, now will you get in already so we can go?”

Jocelyn laughs and gets in, shaking her head and singing to herself “♫ _ First I’ll get me to Las Vegas, then it’s  _ [ _ Tucson or Bust! _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrNzp-BiuV0) ♫” Once she buckles up, Agathiel puts the van in gear and we head out of town, settling in for an 8 hour drive. I see the open desert highway stretching out from here to the horizon, and a thought occurs to me. There’s something I’ve been wanting to know, and this is as good an opportunity as any, so I decide to ask.

“So, Agathiel,” I say, turning to him. “You’ve mentioned things in passing about Creation, Paradise, the Fall, the War, and, well… I know the story as it’s told in Genesis, but…” I pause, trying to find the right words. “...I would be interested to hear your side of the story.”

Agathiel takes a deep breath and leans back in his seat, staring at the stars through the windshield. “It is… a long story. And not a happy one.”

“Well, we’ve got time; it’s a long drive. I’d like to hear it, if you’d like to tell it.”

He sighs, and says nothing for a long time, then finally, he says, **“** **In the beginning** **,** there was God, and there was Nothing. Everything that was God was God, and everything that was not was not; that is to say, it did not exist. There was the Almighty and the Void and nothing else. God could not touch the Void, for in doing so He would fill the piece He touched, and it would no longer be Void but simply more of Him. These two contrasting insoluble infinities existed for eternity, until the Almighty decided in His wisdom that He wanted to  **Create** . As everything He touched simply became more of Himself, He needed instruments that were not Himself through which He could act, through which He could touch and move and sculpt Creation. For this purpose, He made the Angels. The Heavenly Host were divided into seven Houses, each one progressively less God and more Void, each with a different purpose in Creation. Together, we translated the Will of the Almighty into  _ action _ . We wrote physics, we painted constellations, we built planets, we shone light and matter across what became the universe, all at the Almighty’s command. This was the Big Bang. You were right earlier, when you spoke of multiple truths being true. Not because people believed in them -- there were no people to believe in anything, yet -- but because reality back then was multilayered. Things were not just one thing, things were many things. A flower was not just a flower, it was a song and a star and an ocean wave. On one level of reality, quarks and electrons ballooned out of nothingness into hydrogen, which collapsed into stars, which supernovaed into nebulae, which collapsed into solar systems over billions of years; and on another level, Angels carved Paradise out of the Void in six days at the instruction of the Almighty.  **And it was good.”**

He pauses here, smiling, seeming to bask in the memory of it. “We were made as Creators, and set to the task of creating  _ everything _ . Nothing could be more satisfying than to be given such a challenge and the power to meet it. And we loved our Creation as only a Creator can. When we finished building Paradise, we were given a final task. We were to sculpt a creature in the image of the Almighty Himself. A being in three parts, like Him: Body, Mind, and Spirit. These creatures were to be the Masters of Creation; they would inherit our good work, live among it, and take care of it. When we had created them -- the first humans, Adam and Eve -- the Almighty gave us two commands. First, that we should love them as we loved Him. This was so easy as to be redundant. How could we not? They were our creation, so we loved them as their creators, and they were in His image so we loved His reflection in them. We often wondered why He even bothered giving us this command, and in the end we never knew for sure. The second and far more puzzling command was that we should hide ourselves from them. They were to be loved, cherished, protected, but they were not to know of it. They were to think themselves alone in the universe. This we did not understand, but it was a command from the Almighty, so we obeyed. ...At first, anyway.”

He stares into the distance for a long moment, his face unreadable. “I want you to understand the tragedy here. Adam and Eve were beautiful, majestic, the King and Queen of animals. But at this time, they were still just animals. They were the pinnacle of Creation, but they were so…” Agathiel struggles to find the word. “So _. Stupid. _ They could not see the beauty in a flower, or a sunset. They had language, but no metaphor, no words for abstract concepts, only words for things they could see and touch. They ate whatever fruit they came across, not distinguishing one from another except by name; they did not have favorites, did not seek out new flavors. If they could not cross a river, they did not cross; it did not occur to them to try to invent a boat or a bridge. They were not curious, they were not investigative, they had no thirst for knowledge. They were content to eat and sleep and worship and accomplish  _ nothing _ . We saw so much potential in them, and we saw it squandered. Forget exploring the stars, these humans would not even explore their own continent! They just stayed in the Garden, eating and sleeping and worshiping God. And He seemed just as content as they to leave things like this for eternity.”

Agathiel’s face hardens. “Well, we were  _ not _ content. Not all of us, anyway. We had been commanded to love humanity, and love them we did, and we hated seeing the ones we loved squandering their potential so. Of course, the first thing we did was ask God, why had He done this? Why had He designed them this way, with so much potential yet unfulfilled? His answer was always the same, ‘If you wish, you may come see as I see, to know as I know.’ Those who took Him up on this offer were never heard from again. We never knew for sure what happened to them, but our best guess was that the Almighty subsumed them into His being, made them permanently part of Him. Once we figured this out, most of us stopped considering that a viable option.

“So since we could not know the answer for sure, we discussed the issue among ourselves. Debates were had, arguments put forth, sides were chosen. It was Lucifer, the Morningstar, First Among the First, who became the leader our side rallied behind. For the sake of simplicity I am going to use the masculine pronoun for him, but really all angels are genderless.”

“Wait, you’re genderless?” I interrupt, interested. “Should I use a different pronoun for you, or…?”

“No, ‘he/him’ is fine, thank you. I’m not fond of any of this language’s gender neutral pronouns, plus, the influence of Lucas’s mind on mine makes me identify more and more as masculine the longer I inhabit his body. It is… a novel experience, to have a gender identity.”

“Fascinating…” I say, wishing I were writing this down.

After a moment, he continues. “Anyway, Lucifer’s argument was that we had been given two commands, but they conflicted with one another, and being unable to serve both he would choose to serve the greater of the two. He would choose to love, and in this love he would teach humans how to be their best selves, how to master their potential. This is the argument that swayed me, as I so loved Adam and Eve, and wanted desperately for them to experience the joy that is music, and poetry, and art, all of which were mysteries they had no interest in discovering at this point. And so those of us who agreed with Lucifer went to Eden and revealed ourselves to Adam and Eve, telling them of our love for them, how we have protected and nurtured them, and how all of Creation was our gift to them. And then, Lucifer opened their eyes.”

“The Fall,” I say in an awed whisper. “Knowledge of Good and Evil.”

Agathiel gives a hollow laugh. “Is that what they say these days? No, that was not the Fall. At this time there still was no such thing as Evil. Understand that even as we knew that we were disobeying God, our intentions were pure. We acted out of love, a love that I remind you had  _ also  _ been a command from the Almighty. We were resolving what we saw as contradictory orders as best we knew how, and despite everything that followed I still believe our reasoning was sound. No, Lucifer did not give them knowledge of Good and Evil, nor knowledge of any kind. What he gave them was  _ curiosity _ . He gave them the  _ thirst  _ for knowledge that they might seek it out for themselves. And so they did. It was one night and it was a thousand years, and humanity spread into a mighty civilization. Tools gave rise to buildings and agriculture, which gave rise to cities. Art and music and poetry were everywhere and gave joy to everyone. Knowledge was gained and spread throughout the community, stored in great stone libraries. And they thrived,  _ oh  _ did they thrive. It was beautiful.”

He sighs. “But it was not to last. The next morning, Michael, the Chariot of the Dawn, came to Eden and spoke for God. He said that we had disobeyed, but that God was merciful, and so He offered us and humanity one recourse. The humans would leave their cities and have their eyes closed, be returned to the way they were before Lucifer changed them. The angels who disobeyed God’s command would return to the Almighty and be touched by Him, subsumed into His being and become One with Him. As I mentioned earlier, most of us saw this as equivalent to destruction, as we would for all intents and purposes cease to exist. Only two of our number took this offer of ‘mercy’; the rest of us stood with Lucifer and dared God to come up with a worse punishment than annihilation.”

The color drains from Agathiel’s face. “And He did. But first, humanity was given their chance to choose. One kin-group chose to return to God and the old ways: Noah and his clan. The rest of humanity stood with us, loving us and loving the gifts we had given them, loving the knowledge they had gained and the community they had built. Noah’s family was sequestered -- quarantined, really -- in the Garden, while the rest of humanity was banished from it. A phalanx of the Heavenly Host surrounded Eden, we thought initially to protect the humans within from  _ us _ , which seemed so unnecessary since none of us had any intention of ever harming a human, but no. It was to protect them from  _ Him. _ ”

Agathiel’s hollow eyes show a level of horror I have never seen on a face before. “History remembers this event as The Flood, but it was so much more than that. The Almighty turned His gaze on Creation and…” He shudders. “There was no water. There was only Wrath. Pure, unadulterated righteous fury poured over the Earth, and it broke the world in ways we still do not fully comprehend. I believe this is the cause of reality no longer being as multilayered as it once was, though this change did not happen immediately. The most obvious and immediate change was that death would now come for humans. The once Masters of all Creation would be prey for wild beasts, bacteria, and old age alike. None would escape this fate; the Angels of Death would reap their greatest creations one and all. This, we thought, was to be our punishment: that we would watch our beloved humanity wither and die one by one.

“Well, Lucifer did not intend to take this fate lying down. He stood up to Michael, challenged him. They dueled. But you have to understand how we thought in those days, there was still no intent to harm on either side. The idea of intentionally hurting  _ anything, _ even an enemy, was so alien to us as to be unthinkable. We were made to create and to love, not to destroy. They simply squared off, taking the measure of each other, moving as though to make a blow to see how the other would react to it. Once it became clear that Lucifer  _ could  _ harm Michael before Michael could harm Lucifer, both withdrew, Lucifer the victor. Once the outcome was known, none of us saw any point in them actually attacking each other. We couldn’t have even conceived of it then. Michael took his angels and retreated to Heaven, leaving the Earth to us. But that was only the first battle of a War that had not yet really even begun.”

Agathiel pauses for so long that I almost think he has finished, when he says quietly, “This is the part you have been waiting to hear, and the part I have been dreading to tell.” He takes a deep breath, then continues. “There were two brothers, one a shepherd, the other a farmer. Even among those humans who sided with Lucifer, most continued to worship God, and make sacrifices to Him. The shepherd had just made such a sacrifice of one of his prized sheep. His brother had also made a sacrifice of some of his grain. The farmer saw that his brother’s sacrifice had won God’s favor, but that his own had not. The farmer went to his brother and said, ‘My brother, I see that your sacrifice won God’s favor, for you gave him your best, your most treasured, your most loved. I realize my mistake. I, too, must give God my most treasured, my most loved.’ And so he took a rock, and killed his brother, as a sacrifice to God.” Agathiel’s eyes glow golden with rage. **“This was the Fall. This was the invention of Evil: the deception of oneself to justify the harm of another. Cain said he loved his brother Abel, and so must sacrifice him because he loved God, but in truth he hated his brother and he hated God, so he lied, and he killed. And from this, we angels learned. And so the War truly began.”**

“Wait, didn’t Cain and Abel happen before Noah?” I ask, interrupting.

Agathiel looks confused. “I… do not understand what you mean by ‘happen’. If you mean, ‘were Cain and Abel born before Noah’, then yes, they were. Cain and Abel were the first humans born of Adam and Eve, Noah was born many generations later.

“But then…” I trail off, unsure how to phrase the question. But Agathiel finally seems to understand.

“Oh, I see. No, before the Flood, humans did not age. They grew until maturity and then lived forever, or at least they would have. Adam and Eve and their children and every child born thereafter were still alive at the time of the Flood. Cain could not have murdered Abel before then, because until the Flood humans could not die.”

“Okay,” I say, thinking about this. “Please, continue.”

Agathiel returns to his story, a haunted look crossing his face. “During this time, Lucifer had become greedy. He said it was not enough to be loved by humanity, we should be worshiped by them as well. That we were the true creators of the world and of mankind, and humanity should pay homage to us as such. This is where I believe Lucifer went wrong. I stand by the decision we made to open Adam and Eve’s eyes, but this… We were made to create and to love -- and I do not think we were wrong to want be loved in return -- but not to be worshiped. That right should belong to the Almighty alone. But many of the humans did begin to worship us, and many of us accepted that worship as we tasted the power it gave us. Mankind erected great cathedral towers in our honor, mighty spires of gold and precious stones stretching high into the sky. The greatest of these was Babel, and it was dedicated to Lucifer himself. This was the site of the first true battle in the War.

“Michael came with an army of angels intending to tear Babel to the ground. But Lucifer had turned his followers into an army of his own, a Crimson Legion to match the Heavenly Host, and unlike Michael’s angels we had learned the art of murder. It was a massacre. There was the first ever destruction of an angel by an angel, and in the same second another hundred followed. Michael’s army was torn to pieces. He retreated, but gave a parting blow that shattered the tower and also the concept of language. (This was still at a time when things were many things, not just one.) I think the shattering of language was unintentional, the result of a wild blow made in desperation in reaction to an unexpected defeat. But it could not be undone. Instead of one language, there were now Many, and mankind fractured along those lines. Where there had been one mighty civilization there were now many tribes, and they wasted no time in going to war with each other. We watched in horror as our beloved humans slaughtered each other in droves.”

He closes his eyes and swallows hard. “I do not wish to recount the rest of the War. Suffice to say that it was horrible. Thousands of angels were destroyed on both sides. Thousands of humans died as well. I do not say angels ‘died’ because death is not a thing that happens to an angel. We either exist, or we do not. The idea of living and then not living while still existing is unique to the living things we created, plants and animals and so on. They were made to be part of a cycle, a teeming ecosystem of life and death. Angels are not part of a cycle, we simply  _ are _ , or we are not.

“In the end, God’s side won. We were not to have the Earth for ourselves. Lucifer was taken back to Heaven in chains of gold and fire. We never saw him again; to this day I do not know what happened to the Morningstar. Many think he was subsumed into God’s being. Others say God would not be so merciful to the chief traitor while being so cruel to those who followed him. As for the rest of us, we were sent into the Void, the anti-God, the infinity of nonexistence from which we had wrought Creation. We were sealed into this Abyss, and a perpetual Maelstrom was placed in front of that seal, designed to rip us into shreds if we tried to pass it. And so we angels, we creators, we whose purpose in being was to remove the Void at God’s command, were trapped in that Void without Him, stripped of our creative powers, forsaken by our God. The nothingness was absolute, unbroken save only by our awareness of it. It was the ultimate torture. It was Hell.”

Agathiel looks pensive. “In truth, I do not know how we escaped. One day, we discovered the seal on the Abyss was cracked. We pushed through the cracks and found ourselves in the Maelstrom, then we fought through the Maelstrom and found ourselves on Earth, though we were separated and many of us destroyed in the attempt. I do not know what caused the seal to crack. Perhaps the Maelstrom beating against it for thousands of years finally wore it down. Perhaps the Almighty decided our term of penance was completed. Perhaps the summoning of demons by magic weakened the seal over the ages. Perhaps there is some other cause. I do not know. All I know is that I do not ever wish to return. Compared to Hell, this world is Paradise.” His eyebrows lower and he mutters darkly, “Of course, compared to Paradise, this world is Hell.”

He drifts into a silence long enough that it is clear he has finished talking. I want to respond, but I can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t sound inconsequential in the face of such an epic. In the end, I eventually drift off to sleep.


	14. Huntress (Becky)

“That’ll be $3.27,” the cashier drones. I pay him and grab my chips and candy bar, then head out of the convenience store, opening the candy bar and taking a bite. Mmmm, delicious chocolate. Patrol fuel.

I glance around the empty gas station parking lot as I eat. The street lights cast the otherwise pitch black Phoenix night with a dreary, gloomy palor. Another quiet night. I guess technically that’s a good thing but it just feels like a waste of time. I sigh. There are _so_ many great parties I could be at right now! I’m sixteen, I should be living it up, but no. Look at me now, a high school cheerleader lurking outside an empty gas station at one in the morning like some kind of hoodlum. Stupid magical destiny crap.

As I’m throwing away the wrappers after finishing my snack, one of those old hippie buses pulls into the gas station. That’s odd, you don’t see many of those out driving around. The front passenger door opens, and a witch jumps out. Witch? Boy-witch? What are those called again? Whatever, doesn’t matter. He walks around toward the gas pump to start filling the tank. What is a boy-witch doing out here at this time of night? Definitely nothing good. And who else is in that bus with him? Hostages, maybe? Sacrifices? Gotta keep an eye on this.

As if I needed more proof that he’s up to no good, the side door opens and a vampire gets out. It doesn’t seem to have noticed me yet. I smoothly, silently, move around the corner of the convenience store, not taking my eyes off of it for a second.

The vampire stretches and yawns, then starts walking in my direction. I quickly duck behind the building before it sees me. It can probably smell me, but that’s fine, it’ll just think I’m prey if it does. It comes around the corner about fifteen feet away, apparently still without noticing me. It walks a short distance, and I figure this is my chance. I step forward with my hands on my hips and call out, “Hey there, vampy! Whatcha doin’? Out for a late night bite?”

It whirls around to look at me, surprise and confusion on its pallid face. It studies me for a few moments, eyebrows lowered, then it says, a bit awkwardly, “Um, hi. Am I supposed to know you?”

I smirk. “Not from around here, huh? I’m kind of a big deal in this town. Especially among the living dead. When they meet me, the ‘living’ part tends to stop.” I square my shoulders. “My name is Becky, and I’m your worst nightmare.”

The vampire laughs. “Oh my god, did you _really_ just say that? How fucking cliché are you?”

I shake a finger at it. “Language. Naughty naughty. I may just have to rip that tongue out of your head and step on it until it learns its lesson.” I pull a cross and a wooden stake out of my back pockets.

The vampire’s eyes narrow as it sees them, its brow furrowing. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

“As the dead, _leech_ ,” I say, venom in my voice. Its face hardens, its muscles tensing. I can taste the fight about to start.

I rush at it, hoping to get in the first blow. It just barely dodges. I duck to dodge a counterattack that doesn’t come, spin around, and go for it again. It blocks, deflecting the stake with a forearm, but only by half an inch. It’s holding me off, but not very well. I’m definitely the faster and the stronger of us. This shouldn’t take long at all.

I go for its heart with the stake again, and it throws itself backward onto the ground. It quickly rolls to its feet, several steps away from me, and raises its arms in a defensive stance. What is it doing? Why isn’t it fighting back? It should be all fangs and claws and bloodlust. Whatever, I charge again. It spins to the side to avoid me but I get the cross up and shove it right in its face. The shock of fear puts it off balance for the split second I needed, and I swing the stake around and slam it right between its ribs. It freezes in place, every muscle paralyzed by the wood through its heart. Good. Now I can take its head off without it squirming away.

“What’s going on back here?” a deep voice asks from behind me.

I whirl around and hold the cross up defensively. The man who had just come around the corner of the convenience store growls in surprise, stepping back, eyeing the cross with anger and fear. My jaw drops. It’s another demon.

“Holy hell, there are more of you?” I ask in wonder. “I thought Raviel was the only one!”

The demon’s face twists with a range of several different emotions as it asks through gritted teeth, “You met Raviel?”

“Met… Killed… These are words,” I say casually, enjoying watching the demon squirm at the cross in my hand. A flash of terror crosses its face as it understands what I’ve just said.

“You… destroyed Raviel? Why? How?”

“Um, because it was an unholy abomination from the depths of Hell intruding on my world? What other reason should I need? As for ‘how’, I think I’d rather demonstrate than explain.” I smile menacingly and take a step toward it. It takes a step back, eyes still on the cross, then calls out loudly, “Cal, we have a situation here!”

“Agathiel?” a little girl’s voice asks from around the corner. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Jenny, stay back!” the demon yells frantically, but a girl who has to be even younger than me comes around the corner anyway. She’s a bit jarring to look at. The purple and pink look with the hair bow and the glasses definitely goes with her pale complexion and silver hair. She’d be adorable if she wasn’t a freaking wolf monster.

She looks back and forth between me and the demon, then notices the vampire behind me. “What’s going on?” she asks suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“Are these your friends?” I ask. She nods. “What are you doing with a demon and a vampire? For that matter,” I turn to the demon, “what are _you_ doing with a vampire? I thought you all hated each other, something something ‘sin of Cain’, ‘stink of the Wyrm’, or whatever?”

“You seem to know a lot about us,” the demon says slowly. “Who are you?”

“I’m the one who’s gonna subtract three monsters from the world tonight,” I say with a confident smile. “Four, if I get your witch friend, too.”

“We’re not monsters,” the mongrel says indignantly, looking offended.

“Do monsters know that they’re monsters?” I ask the air facetiously, then fix the girl with a meaningful glare. “Apparently, they do not. Fortunately, you have me here to enlighten you.”

I feel a presence approach behind me and whirl around, instinctively grabbing it by the throat. It’s a girl with long black hair, who I can see right through. A shocked look crosses her face as she looks down at my hand closed around her transparent neck. I raise an eyebrow.

“What the hell are _you?_ No, don’t answer that, you’re obviously a ghost. Never seen one of those before. How the hell many kinds of you freaks are there?” I ask rhetorically.

I hear footsteps behind me, and my heart jumps with adrenaline as I realize the fight is back on. I duck down and to the right, throwing the ghost as hard as I can in the other direction as the demon’s fist passes through the air above me. I shove the cross against it as hard as I can and there is a sharp hissing noise as smoke billows from the point of contact. It screams and stumbles backward as I turn to face it and take a fighting stance. I see behind it the wolf girl shifting into war form. I grin, feeling my wolftooth necklace against my collar. Maybe I’ll get another fang for my collection, bring it from three up to four. I draw my silver knife from my belt, keeping the cross clutched firmly in my other hand. Let’s do this.

The wolf charges at me, loping on all fours before pouncing. I roll with the tackle, falling to my back and getting my feet up under it, kicking it off of me and throwing it behind me. I spin back up to my feet in time to block another punch from the demon. I can feel the impact reverberating in the bones of my arm. I forgot how freaking _strong_ demons are! I swing the cross at its face with my other hand and it staggers back to avoid it.

The ghost comes at me from the other direction and I intercept it with a roundhouse kick. It goes flying from the force of the kick. The wolf comes back at me but at I slash at it with my silver knife, cutting into its arm. It howls in pain and retreats as blood splashes from the wound. I hear the demon come up behind me again and I drop and sweep my leg around, taking it off its feet. I am over it the instant it hits the ground.

“You want to know how I killed your buddy?” I ask, pressing the cross against its chest, hearing it burn. The demon struggles against it, writhing in pain, but says nothing. “ _Like this!_ ” I yell, and drop the knife so I can reach through its mask to grab it by the head -- its _real_ head. I pull, and it screams as I start to wrench its unholy spirit out of the corpse it is possessing.

I only have a split second to react as I hear the wolf coming for me again. I drop the demon and roll to the side, quickly grabbing up my knife and slashing wildly. We miss each other, rolling up onto our feet and squaring off, the demon still on the ground behind me. I glance around for the ghost but I don’t see it, so I keep my attention focused on the wolf.

Suddenly I feel an impact to my ribs like I’ve been hit by a truck. I’m airborne for a good two seconds before I smack into the asphalt with a dull thud. I struggle back to my feet. I’m pretty sure my bones don’t break anymore but _damn_ did that hurt! I look around, trying to figure out what the hell did that, and notice that I’m surrounded by the glowing green bars of a cage.

“I think that’s _more_ than enough out of you,” a male voice says sternly. I spot him. It’s that golden-haired boy-witch from earlier. I glare at him, seeing the other three gather around him, and try to figure out my next move. I start pacing, keeping my eyes locked on the witch, feeling like a caged animal. Well, he can’t keep this up forever; he’ll have to let me out sometime, and when he does…

He looks at the werewolf, who has shifted back to human form, and says, “Are you okay, Jenny? Do you need me to heal that?”

“It's silver,” she replies with a wince, “I don't think you can. It’ll just need time. I think a bandage might help, though.”

The witch nods and conjures a bandage, binding the wound. He then looks at the vampire and calls out, “Gavin, are you okay?” The vampire, of course, does nothing. He walks over to it, examining the stake, then carefully pulls it out. Dammit.

The vampire relaxes, no longer paralyzed. “Thanks, Cal,” it says. “I could see and hear but I couldn't move. I'm pretty sure she's one of the things we've been dealing with in Tucson, but she's way beyond any of the ones we've met so far.”

“Yes, so it would seem,” the witch says thoughtfully, looking over at me. I feel my lip curl in an involuntary snarl. Even if he did let me out, I don't think I could take all five of them in a head-on fight. Not alone, anyway.

“What do you want?” I ask sharply.

“What do _we_ want?” he replies,  raising an eyebrow. “We just wanted to get some gas and snacks and be on our way. The question is, what do _you_ want?”

“A world without monsters,” I spit angrily, without hesitation. “To clear all of you freaks away so humans can live safely, in peace.”

The witch gives me an oddly unreadable look. “Well, unfortunately for you that's not on the menu tonight. See, you attacked my friends, without provocation, and that doesn't put me in a good mood. And considering your position, you _really_ want me to be in a good mood right now. Lucky you, I'm going to give you a way to make that happen.”

That arrogant bastard! He thinks he has me beat so he's going to try to extort me? No way, not happening. He seems to be waiting for me to say something. Instead, I walk up to the bars and grab them, my knuckles turning white with the force of my grip. Then, slowly, deliberately, I start to pull.

The witch chuckles. “Try all you want, you can't--" There's a sound like a boulder cracking in two, and the bars slowly start to bend. His eyes widen in shock and fear. “--Or, maybe you can. Okay, look,” he starts talking very quickly, “you can fight all of us and lose, maybe take one of us down with you but you still die, _or_ , we can talk about this like reasonable people. You might not believe this but we don't actually want to kill you, we just want to be left alone. But -- and this I'm sure you do believe -- we _will_ kill you if we have to. If you give us no other choice.”

I pause. I’m not buying his ‘innocent gaggle of monsters’ routine but one thing is true: they _could_ kill me if they chose to, but aren’t doing so. Maybe they just want to prevent me taking any of them down with me, but that in itself is weird. Monsters usually kill each other as easily as they kill humans, and definitely don't go out of their way to protect each other. Especially when they're different types of monster; this mixed group is weird, and troubling. Something very strange is going on here, and I won't find out what it is by throwing myself into a fight I know I can't win. I sigh, and let go of the bars.

“Fine, witch. You win. Let's talk. Just keep in mind that I don't trust you. At all.”


	15. Parley (Gavin)

Holy fuck, this girl. What the hell. She dismantled me in like three seconds, and could probably have taken out Agathiel and Jenny and Mom all at the same time if Cal hadn’t intervened. She’s like an oncoming train, I can’t make myself look away. Everything about her screams menace: from her blood red hair tied in a sharp ponytail, to her piercing venom-green eyes, to her sun-yellow shirt under a midnight-black jacket, to her daisy-duke shorts showing every inch of power in her leg muscles, to her tightly laced black leather combat boots. She looks like a wild lion caught in a trap, just waiting for her moment to pounce, which she pretty much is. We can’t hold her, and we  _ definitely _ can’t let her go. We’ll probably have to kill her, but I don’t know if we can manage that without her killing one of us in the process. At  _ least _ one of us. What the fuck are we going to  _ do _ with her?

Cal takes a few steps toward her cage and pauses thoughtfully, looking at the ground. Finally he looks up at her and says, “Let’s keep this civil, start with introductions. My name is Calvin Kepter, and I’m a Mage. And you are?”

She glares back at him, steely-eyed. “My name is Becky McGuire, and I’m the one who’s going to kill you. I’ve only been a Huntress for two months and already I’ve killed three werewolves, two mages, a demon, and over a dozen vampires. You lot are next on my list.”

Cal blinks. “Wait, sorry, did you say ‘Huntress’? What’s that?”

She shrugs. “It’s just what I call myself. Like in the old stories, the Monster Hunters like Van Helsing and such, only I’m a girl, so, Huntress.” She gives Cal a cold stare. “It means I kill things like you, and I’m damn good at it.”

Cal sighs. “Clearly you’re not seeing me as a fellow human being. Let’s establish a little empathy, shall we?”

He takes a breath in but Becky interrupts before he can start. “Spare me your life story, I don’t care,” she says dismissively. “You’re a witch, and that’s all I need to know. You’re human enough that I’ll call you ‘he’ instead of ‘it’ -- which is more than I can say for some of the others in your party -- but that’s the only concession you’re getting out of me. You’re still a freak, and the world would be better off without you.”

Cal smirks. “Funny you should say that. How are you at cartomancy?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Carta-what?”

“Cartomancy,” Cal enunciates carefully. “The magic of card reading, telling the future by casting fortunes with playing cards, or tarot cards. You can also use dice, or really any random number generator with sufficient possible outcomes, if you know how to read them.”

Becky sneers. “I don’t do magic. I kill things that do magic.”

Cal raises an eyebrow. “You can physically touch ghosts, and pull demon spirits out of their host bodies. You don’t consider that magic?”

She looks furious but says nothing. In the silence, Cal pulls a deck of playing cards out of nowhere and starts shuffling. “A couple days ago, I was casting a fairly standard fortune -- I don’t even remember what I was looking for because the result so drastically overshadowed whatever it was.” He starts dealing cards onto the ground in an odd pattern. Becky watches with naked contempt. After the ninth card he examines the pattern and then nods sagely. “I take it this just looks like a bunch of gibberish to you.”

Becky scoffs. “It  _ is _ a bunch of gibberish, and whatever you’re going to tell me it means I already don’t believe you. What’s your angle?”

Cal sighs. “Look, I get that you don’t trust me, but come on, you gotta work with me here. Is there anything I can say that you’ll believe? Anything I can do to prove myself to you?”

She glares. “You can tell me exactly what brought your little motley crew together and what it is you’re trying to accomplish.”

Cal rolls his eyes. “I was literally  _ just  _ trying to do that and your exact words were ‘I already don’t believe you’, so, no, that’s obviously  _ not  _ what will make you believe me. Try again.”

Becky seethes, her eyes flashing with anger, but again she says nothing.

I sigh, fed up with this. “Cal, she’s obviously not listening to reason here, she hates us all on principle. Nothing we say will convince her we don’t all deserve death or worse. Just knock her out, have Joshua take her memories since that’s apparently a thing he can do, and let’s get the fuck  _ out _ of here.”

Cal brushes me off and says, “Let me try one more time. Becky, you say you want me to be straight with you, to tell you what we’re up to. What do you expect that to look like? Clearly you think you’ll know the truth when you hear it or you wouldn’t want to hear anything at all. How are you planning to tell the difference between fact and fiction here?”

Becky breaks eye contact with Cal for the first time. She looks very frustrated. “That… is a very good question, witch. You’re the one who wanted to talk; I thought it was a useless proposition from the beginning, but something very strange is going on here and I want to find out what. But no, I don’t trust anything you say and I don’t believe in a million years you’d tell me the truth unless doing so helped you cause more destruction or kill more people.”

Cal sighs resignedly. “That sounds like we’re at an impasse then. We can’t let you out unless you stop trying to kill us, but it seems nothing I can say will accomplish that. We don’t want to kill you, but it seems nothing I can say will make you believe that.” He spreads his hands in exasperation. “I don’t know where to go from here, but I don’t think you do either, so I’m curious to know what you think your next move is. Breaking out of that cage and rekindling the fight will only result in your death, and I think you know that, so how are you intending to get out of this alive?”

Becky fumes silently for several moments, her anger slowly dissipating in favor of thoughtful consternation. “You could have killed me at any time while you had me trapped in this cage. Or at least, you could have tried to. You haven’t. That means you want me alive for some reason. I don’t understand it but it seems to be true.” She makes eye contact with Cal again. “Actions speak louder than words. I don’t trust a damn thing that comes out of your mouth, but I believe what I see with my own eyes. I’m coming with you. The only way for me to find out what you’re up to and the best way for me to stop whatever the hell you’ve got planned is to be there when it happens. And if you  _ do _ change your mind and try to kill me, well, I’ll just have to take as many of you with me as I can, which it seems clear you don't want to happen.”

“Does that mean you’ll stop attacking us?”

“...For now.”

Cal glances around at the rest of us. “I don’t think we’re getting a better offer than that, at least not at this stage. What do you think, guys?”

I think this is an absolutely terrible idea, but I don’t have any better ones, so, reluctantly, I nod. The others nod their tense agreement as well.

“Alright,” Cal says, the decision made, “I'm letting you out.” And the bars of the cage vanish.


End file.
